


Excalibur and Angels and Demons

by marysiak, orphan_account



Category: Constantine: The Hellblazer (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 10:52:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 48,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7571407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marysiak/pseuds/marysiak, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mostly standalone but references X-Men and X-Factor a bit, includes the "new" series Angels and Demons with John Constantine. Starts immediately after the Pryde and Wisdom Limited series and canon Excalibur #90. The X-Writers project ran from 1995-1996.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Excalibur #91

\------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  ** X-WRITERS is a fan-fiction e-mail group. Though our theme is the  
X-Men, Marvel (which owns that product) has not given us permission to  
use that product and all characters related to it. We similarly are not  
sponsored by any other private organization, MUSH, individual, etc.  
Finally, we are a non-profit bunch of amateur comic book wannabe-writers  
\-- we ain't got the money for a lawsuit... so don't even bother. **  
  
Notes: Things in [square brackets] are the sort of running commentary you  
get in boxes in the corner of the frame. Things in *star* things are  
thoughts and things in "speech quotes" are speech. Things in nothing at  
all are descriptions of the panel the speech below them occurs in.  
  
      EXCALIBUR #91 (November issue) -- "Who Is That Masked Man?"  
  
        Written by Marysia  
  
 -----------------------------------------------------------------------  
  Cover: Captain Britain and Britanic facing half away from each other  
       both in typical strong man poses with a large red question mark  
       between their heads.  
 -----------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Full Page: Kitty in jeans and a t-shirt sitting on her bed with her knees  
pulled up to her chin staring into space. Lockheed is perched on the  
backboard of the bed.  
  
 [Kitty Pryde has a lot on her mind today. She just got back from a trip  
 to London with Peter Wisdom, a man she distrusted and disliked. While  
 there they discovered and hopefully destroyed a secret Black Air base  
 called Dream Nails and a bunch of aliens who called themselves the  
 Uncreated. All in a days work for a girl like her, for a mutant who's  
 been fighting for good for so long she's almost forgotten what it's like  
 just to be a teenager. But that wasn't all that happened on that trip.  
 She also took a step from being a child to being a woman. A step that  
 should have been a very special moment in her life... right now it seems  
 more like a nightmare.]  
  
 Kitty: *Well you've really done it now. So much for romance and love and  
        thinking things through. The deed is done... with practically a  
        complete stranger. Oh God Kitty, what would Ororo say? What were  
        you thinking? Well I can answer that one. I wasn't thinking. Why  
        him? Of all the complete strangers you ever met why that one?  
        I suppose in a way he reminds me of Logan, that tough exterior  
        with a truly good man underneath. Logan was always a father  
        figure to me but perhaps if we'd first met when I was older... I  
        would have completely ruined my relationship with him just like I  
        have with Wisdom. What am I going to say to him?*  
  
She rolls over onto her stomach and props her chin on her hands.  
  
 Kitty: *What would Rachael have done? Rachael wouldn't have got herself  
        into such a God awful situation. Where are you Ray? I could really  
        do with your help about now cause I don't know what to do...*  
 -----------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
A living room. In the background we can see an open coal fire and a  
decorated Christmas tree. Douglock is sitting right next to the tree. In  
the foreground are Moira McTaggert and Rahne Sinclair (in full human  
form! with short red hair!) in armchairs talking.  
  
 Moira: "How long wull ye stay luv?"  
  
 Rahne: "Ah'm no sure. Till after Hogmany enaways. Sa much has changed  
         in X-Factor recently. Wi' Jamie's death an' Guido bein' ill an'  
         Forge takin' over an' Mystique an' Wildchild... ah'm just no  
         sure ah belong there enamore."  
  
Rahne rests her chin in her hands and Moira touches her shoulder. In the  
background there are now two near identical Christmas trees and no  
Douglock. One of the Christmas trees is suspiciously yellow.  
  
 Moira: "Ye ken ye're alus welcome here. Ah'd be glad o' yuir company as  
         long as ye want tae stay. Ah've missed ye summit awful dear."  
  
Rahne looks up at Moira. In the background the other tree has gone green  
but so have all its ornaments and lights.  
  
 Rahne: "An' you ought tae ken ye dinna have tae lie tae me Lady Moira.  
        Ah know there ain't no cure f'r the Legacy... Ah know y'r gon'  
        tae die. Though the good Lord kens ah'll be prayin fur a miracle.  
        An' if ye like, if ye want me tae, ah'll be stayin' till the end.  
        Ah'm no lettin' ye go alone."  
  
Moira and Rahne hug, there are tears in both their eyes. In the back  
ground Douglock finally gets the tree right.  
  
 Moira: "Oh Rahne luv. Ah'm sorry."  
  
Meggan appears in the room loking distraught. Rahne and Moira are looking  
round at her. The other tree grows Douglocks face.  
  
 Meggan: "Moira!"  
  
Moira and Rahne stand up to calm Meggan. Douglock changes back to his  
normal form.  
  
 Moira: "Calm doon Meggan, whit's wrang?"  
  
 Meggan: "B-Brian's gone! He was in the labs and he's gone and there's  
         such a mess... Oh Moira what can have happened?"  
  
 Moira: "Dinna worry lass, it'll be all right. Rahne go get the rest of  
        the team and bring them over."  
 -----------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
In the communications room. The array is completely destroyed and the  
team is gathered around it; Rahne, Moira, Meggan, Kurt, Kitty, Douglock.  
Peter Wisdom is further back as if unsure whether he should be there.  
  
 Kitty: "This is going to take forever to fix."  
  
 Moira: "It's certainly a fair mess."  
  
 Kurt: "Can't say I'm surprised. Some stranger turns up claiming to be  
       Brian and we all just believe him..."  
  
Close up of Meggan looking angry and Kurt.  
  
 Meggan: "How can you say that? Don't you think I can tell the difference  
         between my Brian and a stranger! He's been attacked... kidnapped  
         and all you can do is accuse him!"  
  
Moira pulls Meggan back. Rahne changes to half-wolf form.  
  
 Moira: "Meggan lass, hush. Kurt is right. We canna be sure tha Brian  
        hisself didna do this. He's no the man we used ta ken. But we  
        canna go accusin' anyone the noo. Let's get yon mess cleared awa  
        an see whit we can see first."  
  
 Rahne: "Ah can smell Captain Britain but there's another scent an all.  
        Kinna the same but no the same."  
  
Kitty heads out the door walking past Wisdom on the way.  
  
 Wisdom: "Kitty..."  
  
 Kitty: "Not now Pete, I have to get my laptop and stuff."  
  
She heads out the door leaving Wisdom staring after her.  
  
 Wisdom: *?*  
 -----------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Cut to Rory's lab where he and Amanda are sitting facing one another.  
Rory is bandaged up around the left hip where the laser struck him. He  
looks desperate and is sweating too much. Amanda is calm but worried.  
  
 Rory: "It was just... one of those things Amanda. I guess the mood  
       stabilisers weren't strong enough, that's all. I should have  
       noticed he was getting to me... quit before it got too much. But  
       I wanted to prove I could do it... that I wasn't Ahab."  
  
 Amanda: "You don't know how much I want to believe you Rory. But you  
         attacked him! I've looked at the recordings of your sessions.  
         You've been playing power games with him, grinding him under  
         your heel every chance you got. That's not the behaviour of a  
         stable man."  
  
Close-up of Rory, he is looking down at his hands which he is twisting.  
  
 Rory: "No, no... of course. But I told you why... I explained... the  
       mood stabilisers. It was just an... an accident..."  
  
He stands up, slamming his hands down on the table. Amanda is back in  
frame still sitting. She looks sad.  
  
 Rory: "I'm not him! I'm not Ahab! I'm not!!"  
  
 Amanda: "I think it would be best if you didn't work with Spoor anymore  
         Rory. I'm sorry."  
  
Amanda leaves. Rory slouches down over the table face down arms stretched  
forward.  
  
 Rory: "An accident... just... only... accident... was..."  
 -----------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Cut to the communications array. Kitty has a laptop fixed up to it and  
Kurt is tinkering about in the remains with a soldering iron.  
  
 Kurt: "So are you going to tell Uncle Kurt what happened between you and  
       Wisdom in London? How's that?"  
  
 Kitty: "Nothing and nothing."  
  
 Kurt: "Don't give me that. What with his puppy dog eyes whenever you're  
       in the room and your sudden inability to even look at him..."  
  
 Kitty: "I got something there, do that again."  
  
 Kurt: "Don't try and tell me there's nothing going on."  
  
 Kitty: "Got it, trace that back. It's none of your business."  
  
 Kurt: "Following it. So something has happened?"  
  
 Kitty: "Looks like most of the memory is still intact. No, nothing has."  
  
Kurt stops working and turns to Kitty who steadfastly glares at her  
computer screen.  
  
 Kurt: "Katzchen talk to me... Perhaps I should call Ororo and get her to  
       talk to you."  
  
Kitty turns to him in shock.  
  
 Kitty: "No!"  
  
 Kurt: "Then talk to me, please. I'm worried about you."  
  
Kitty lowers her head, there is a tear in the corner of her eye.  
  
 Kitty: "I'm afraid I've made a terrible mistake Kurt...  
  
She puts her face in her hands, Kurt lays a hand on her shoulder.  
  
 Kitty: "...and I don't know what to do."  
 -----------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Cut to the kitchen. Meggan is making dinner. Wisdom is leaning against  
the counter waiting for the kettle to boil.  
  
 Meggan: "I thought you'd be staying down in London Mr Wisdom. Now that  
          we're done with Genosha."  
  
 Pete: "Let's just say I had a little disagreement with my old employers  
       while I was down there. I won't be goin' back to Black Air."  
  
 Meggan: "So what will you do now?"  
  
 Pete: "Haven't decided yet." *What's going on? I thought Pryde was going  
       to square things with the rest of the team.*  
  
Meggan turns to Wisdom, mashing some potatoes rather violently. Her hair  
hangs lanker than usual and her face is less attractive.  
  
 Meggan: "Well I'm sure no-one will mind you staying here till you decide.  
         If you want. Though Moira doesn't seem to like you very much..."  
  
 Pete: "You don't say." *Bloody Scottish witch.*  
  
 Meggan: "I expect it's your own fault. You're not very friendly."  
  
 Pete: "Thanks."  
  
Meggan has turned back to the potatoes which are already thoroughly  
mashed and continues to pound them. She resembles her old form when she  
first met Brian.  
  
 Meggan: "And she doesn't really like English people very much. I asked  
         her why once and she said... actually I don't think I should  
         repeat that."  
  
The potato pan goes skiting off the side spraying mashed potatoes.  
  
 Meggan: "Damn!"  
  
Meggan sits on the floor and starts to cry.  
  
 Pete: "Hey... umm... don't cry. It doesn't matter."  
  
He moves to clear up the mashed potatoes.  
  
 Pete: "See, there's plenty left."  
  
 Meggan: "I just want to know why this keeps happening! Where is he?"  
  
Pete moves to comfort her.  
  
 Pete: "He'll be alright, you'll see. We're the good guys remember? That  
       means he'll be alright." *You hear me whoever's up there? I'd hate  
       to be a liar.*  
 -----------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Cut to the dining room. The table is round. The team are seated Moira,  
Rahne, Kitty, Kurt, Meggan, Pete, Douglock, Amanda, Rory.  
  
 [It's a silent grouping at what ought to be a cheery time of year. That  
 time between Christmas and New Year that's full of joy. But their  
 missing comrade and other... more personal problems... make things less  
 than festive. It used to be that they never let things get them down,  
 there was always a joke to be made no matter what the situation. But  
 recently there just hasn't been much to laugh about. And they can only  
 pray that soon things will get back on track, that the shadow of death  
 will stop clouding their lives.]  
  
 Moira: "Will ye say grace for us Rahne?"  
  
Cut to Rahne.  
  
 Rahne: "F'r whit we are aboot tae recieve, may the Good Lord mak us  
        truly thankful..."  
  
Cut to Meggan.  
  
 [An may he send Captain Britain back tae us safe an soond...]  
  
Curt to Moira.  
  
 [...an help Moira and Professor Xavier tae find a cure f'r the Legacy  
  Virus...]  
  
Cut to a split frame with Kitty on one side and Pete on the other both  
looking surprised/shocked.  
  
 [... An help Kitty an Mr Wisdom tae figure oot whit ever's wrang between them.]  
  
Back to Rahne.  
  
 Rahne: "Amen."  
  
Cut back to full table.  
  
 All: "Amen."  
  
 [And who knows, perhaps someone up there is listening to Rahne's heart-  
 felt prayer. And if one part of her prayer can be granted perhaps the  
 rest will not be far behind. Certainly if it's a matter of faith she  
 has enough to move a mountain.]  
 -----------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Cut to outside the facility. The wind is blowing a gale and the rain is  
so hard you can hardly make out where the land stops and the sea starts.  
  
A lightening bolt strikes the ground.  
  
There is a sudden flash of light.  
  
Captain Britain, in his normal costume, appears silhouetted against the  
dark sky.  
  



	2. Excalibur #92

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beast visits.

\--------------------------------------------  
Published:          Thu, 7 Mar 1996 13:51:50 BST  
  
  ** X-WRITERS is a fan-fiction e-mail group. Though our   
theme is the  X-Men, Marvel (which owns that product) has not   
given us permission to  use that product and all characters related   
to it. We similarly are not  sponsored by any other private   
organization, MUSH, individual, etc.  Finally, we are a non-profit   
bunch of amateur comic book wannabe-writers,  we ain't got the   
money for a lawsuit... so don't even bother. **  
  
Notes: Things in [square brackets] are the sort of running   
commentary you get in boxes in the corner of the frame. Things   
in *star things are thoughts and things in "speech quotes" are   
speech. Things in nothing at all are descriptions of the panel the   
speech below them occurs in.  
  
                   EXCALIBUR #92 (December issue)  
                     "Another Day in Paradise."  
  
        Written by Marysia   
  
 -----------------------------------------------------------------  
     Cover: Rahne on her knees, hands clasped. Ghostly forms of         
   
     Doug Ramsey and Warlock behind and to either side, arms   
     crossed.  
 ------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Rahne and Douglock are clearing away the dinner dishes.   
Meggan and Kitty's plates are untouched. Lockheed is perched on   
the back of Kitty's chair like a guardian angel, glaring at Pete   
Wisdom.  
  
 [Their friend and team-mate Brian Braddock may be missing but   
Excalibur  won't give up without a fight. They know they will find   
him, but they  might be surprised as to just how soon that will be.]  
  
 Amanda: "I could try setting a finder spell on Brian. It should be   
     able to find him even if he's not on Earth any more."  
  
 Kurt: "I can't see what else we can do. Katzchen and I found   
     nothing in the computers of any help..."  
  
The door is flung open and a drenched Captain Britain stands in   
the doorway. The team stares open-mouthed at him.  
  
 Meggan: "Brian?"  
  
 Brian: "Meggan, I am so glad to see you. I have defeated that   
     imposter who thought he could take my place and fought   
     my way through Otherworld to reach you..."  
  
Meggan is standing a few feet from Brian looking upset. Kurt and   
Amanda are behind her.  
  
 Meggan: "Imposter?"  
  
 Brian: "Kaptain Briton, the fiend who tried to take my place.   
     Surely he didn't fool any of you? Meggan?"  
  
Meggan begins to cry.  
  
 Meggan: "Oh Kurt you were right, I've been so stupid."  
  
 Kurt: "We have only his word that Britanic was not Brian   
     Braddock, who is he to tells us that? The costume doesn't   
     make the man. Prove yourself."  
  
Brian looks surprised at this negative reaction to his return.  
  
 Brian: "I... don't know how. Where is Rachael? Surely she can   
     tell you I am who I say."  
  
All the teams faces go blank except for Douglock.  
  
 Douglock: "The Phoenix entity entered the timestream to save   
     the Britanic entity."  
  
Close up from the side on Kitty facing Brian looking really angry.  
  
 Kitty: "She's dead! She sacrificed herself to save YOU! Only   
     NOW you tell us it wasn't you. She died for NOTHING   
     and if you don't prove to us that it wasn't your fault I'm   
     gonna make you wish you'd stayed in the damn timestream!"  
  
Amanda steps between Kitty and Brian.  
  
 Amanda: "Perhaps I can tell. There is a spell that can determine   
     if a person is in the dimension they belong to. If he is not   
     our Captain Britain I will be able to tell."  
  
 Kitty & Brian: "Do it."  
  
Brian stands surrounded in sparkly smoke stuff with Amanda   
behind him. The rest of the team watch from further back.  
  
 [Amanda casts the simple but visually stunning spell while the   
rest of the team wait with bated breath.]  
  
The smoke vanishes and Amanda turns to the team.  
  
 Amanda: "He is Captain Britain of Earth 616. There is no doubt   
     of it."  
   
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
It is sunrise though the sun is behind us to the south-east. The   
Blackbird can be seen approaching from the west over the Outer   
Hebrides. There is an obvious frost on the ground and the sky is   
very clear. Moira, Douglock and Rahne (in half wolf form) wait   
outside, well wrapped up. The water vapour in their breath   
freezes as they expel it. Moira stands away from the other two.  
  
 Rahne: "It'll be nice tae see Dr McCoy again will it no Doug?  
  
 Douglock: "I have never met Dr McCoy before Rahne."  
  
 Rahne: "Oh of course. Ye... died... afore we New Mutants met   
     X-Factor."  
  
 Douglock: "I do not understand."  
  
 Rahne: "Ah knew the Good Lord couldna just let ye die Doug. It   
     widna be fair f'r it should never ha' happened. An noo he   
     has brought back you an Warlock, both who died f'r my   
     sake. Just like he brought back the X-Men when they died   
     in Dallas an like he'll provide a cure f'r the Legacy Virus   
     too."  
  
The Blackbird lands.  
  
 Douglock: "I know of no "Good Lord" Rahne. It was the   
     Phalanx that created me to use Doug Ramsey's mutant   
     power."  
  
 Rahne: "Ye just dinna understand Doug. The Lord used the   
     Phalanx, for all tha it wis evil, tae right a great wrong. Tae   
     give ye back y're life..."  
  
Rahne steps closer to him, reaching out a hand to touch his   
cheek.  
  
 Rahne: "tae bring ye back tae me..."  
  
 Douglock: "Do you wish to proposition me?"  
  
Rahne jerks her hand away looking shocked.  
  
 Rahne: "Doug! I widnae do such a thing."  
  
 Douglock: "I thought perhaps you wished to. It seems most   
     common. Meggan and the Britanic entity, Nightcrawler   
     and Amanda, Kitty and Mr Wisdom. I thought perhaps   
     you felt... left out."  
  
Rahne looks down at the ground.  
  
 Rahne: "Ah dinna think we should talk aboot such things. Tis no   
     right. An a doubt Kitty wid be pleased tae hear ye   
     spreading such rumours aboot her an Mr Wisdom."  
  
 Douglock: "But it is not a rumour, I heard Kitty tell Nightcrawler   
     that she propositioned Mr Wisdom on the way back from   
     London and that he accepted. But what I do not   
     understand is why she seems so upset about..."  
  
Rahne is blushing, obvious even in her half wolf form.  
  
 Rahne: "Stop it Doug! Tis no right to talk aboot this an Kitty   
     _should_ be upset f'r doin' such a thing when she hardly   
     knows him. Tis clear that he has led her astray an' had ah   
     known it ah wouldna hae prayed for them last night but f'r   
     the Lord tae forgive Kitty f'r her sin."  
  
 Moira: "Will yoos two quit gabbin' an' come gi me a hand here!"  
  
Moira leads Beast inside as Bishop directs Rahne and Douglock   
as to what to take inside.  
  
 Beast: "It must be hard for Rahne. With the boy so resembling   
     Douglas Ramsey."  
  
 Moira: "T'tell the truth ah havnae had the time tae ask her aboot   
     it. She seems tae be takin' it awfy well. Kitty wisnae so   
     understandin' at first, though they get on fine noo."  
  
 Beast: "She is not the only one. Psylocke was quite shocked to   
     hear of the boys apparant resurrection, in form at least.   
     The Professor explained the situation to her and I do not   
     doubt she will eventually get up the nerve to come and see   
     for herself."  
  
They are inside the house and removing their heavy coats.  
  
 Moira: "I'm sure Brian wid be glad tae see a friendly face after   
las' night. Oh, you dinna know aboot that yet."  
  
 Beast: "Indeed I don't, do tell."  
  
 Moira: "Apparantly this Britanic chap wis an imposter after a'.   
     He vanished las' night an' Brian turned up at th'door.   
     Meggan didnae tak it well at a' an neither did Kitty f'r that   
     matter. But she hasnae bin takin' onythin' well since she   
     an' that  Wisdom got back frae London."  
  
Beast and Moira sit down, he grins at her.  
  
 Beast: "I do declare Moira, you have become quite the gossip in   
     your old age. And I suppose you expect the same in return..."  
  
 Moira: "Well ye know a' like tae keep up wi things on th'other   
     side o' the pond. So whit's been goin' on?"  
  
We see Kitty pause, startled, in the doorway of the room.  
  
 Beast: "Old memories dredged up, and not pleasant ones I'm   
     afraid. Though with less damaging results thank goodness.   
     Peter Rasputin appeared at the mansion with Callisto..."  
  
 Moira: "Ah thought Callisto died wi' the Morlocks."  
  
 Beast: "So did we..."  
  
Cut to Kitty leaning against the wall outside the room.  
  
 Kitty: *Peter's left Avalon... Do I want to see him again? What   
     would I say to him, we've grown apart too long. I ruined   
     things with Pete by jumping in too quick but maybe Peter   
     and I spoiled things by waiting too long and that's what I   
     was trying to avoid this time.*  
  
She walks away.  
  
 Kitty: *But I was so young when Peter and were together, who's   
     to say what's right. I certainly don't know.*  
  
Wisdom grabs Kitty's arm as she walks down the hall and pulls   
her into his room.  
  
 Kitty: *?*  
  
In Pete's room.  
  
 Pete: "We have to talk Pryde... I mean Kitty. About what   
     happened."  
  
 Kitty: "I... I don't know... what to say to you."  
  
 Pete: "Well tellin' me I'm just imaginin' things and you haven't   
     been ignorin' me would be a good start."  
  
Kitty looks away.  
  
 Pete: "Kitty? Well this is just flamin' brilliant! There was me   
     worried about your feelin's an' it looks like I'm the one   
     that's been had all along. Well I hope you really enjoyed it   
     for what it was worth, cause I meant it even if you didn't."  
  
Kitty slaps him, angry now.  
  
 Kitty: "How dare you! How dare you say that to me!"  
  
 Pete: "If the shoe fits..."  
  
There are tears in Kitty's eyes.  
  
 Kitty: "I hate you Peter Wisdom, I wish I'd never met you! I   
     should have paid attention to first impressions cause I   
     guess you really are the person I thought you were and if I   
     could take back what happened I would cause it makes   
     me sick that I ever let you touch me."  
  
She runs out the room slamming the door behind her.  
  
He looks after her with an indecipherable expression.  
  
He sits down on the bed and lights a cigarette, a wry look on his   
face.  
  
 Pete: *Way to tell a girl you're in love with her Wisdom. You're   
such a smooth talker.*  
  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Amanda and Rory walk (well Rory limps) down a corridor in the   
research building.  
  
 Amanda: "This is for the best Rory. You must set things straight   
     with Spoor before he leaves."  
  
Rory enters a door and Amanda remains behind.  
  
The door swings closed with a heavy thunk.  
  
Rory enters the room alone, Spoor is behind bars.  
  
 Spoor: "Well, well, well. If it isn't Mr Psychopath. Attacked   
     anyone today Dr Campbell? The delightful Amanda   
     perhaps... or her demonic boyfriend Nightcrawler?"  
  
Rory clenches his fists.  
  
 Rory: "Shut up Spoor, just shut up!"  
  
 Spoor: "Temper, temper Dr Campbell. Just making polite   
     conversation.  But perhaps you would prefer me to growl   
     incoherently and then  maybe you could beat me up for a   
     while."  
  
Rory turns away.  
  
 Rory: "I don't have to listen to you. I'm not listening to you!"  
  
 Spoor: "You can't stop me Dr Campbell, not without killing me.   
     I'm going to be there to taunt you every day of your life   
     till I'm dead. And you know why? Well?"  
  
Rory spins around and grabs hold of the bars, spitting in Spoor's   
face.  
  
 Rory: "No I don't! So why don't you tell me!"  
  
 Spoor: "Cause I just love lookin' in your eyes and watchin' your   
     mind fall to bits... Dr Campbell."  
  
Rory grabs Spoor by the neck.  
  
 Rory: "You think you know don't you? You think you know   
     what I'll become... but you're wrong! I won't let it happen!   
     You can't make me become that monster! I could never   
     do that... not to Rachael... never to Rachael..."  
  
Close up on Spoor looking puzzled.  
  
 Spoor: "Jesus... you really have flipped. You're a fucking loony!   
     Hey! Hey is anyone out there! This guy's a bloody nutter!   
     He ought to be in here not me!"  
  
Amanda comes in to see what's going on, Spoor has pushed Rory   
back onto the floor.  
  
 Amanda: "What's wrong?"  
  
 Spoor: "He's flipped, nutso, one sausage short of a fry up!"  
  
Rory grabs Amanda's legs.  
  
 Rory: "He's trying Amanda. He's trying to make me but I won't   
     let him! I won't. I won't. I won't."  
  
Amanda teleports them out of the room...  
  
                                      ...and into the infirmary.  
  
 Amanda: "Rory! Calm down."  
  
 Rory: "I won't. I won't. I won't."  
  
Amanda uses a spell to appear in the living room of the house in   
front of Moira and Beast who are still talking.  
  
 Amanda: "Moira, please hurry to the infirmary, Rory seems to   
     be having some kind of break down."  
  
 Moira: "We'll be right there Amanda."  
  
Moira and Beast hurry out the room.  
  



	3. Excalibur #93

\--------------------------------------------  
Published: Thu, 18 Jan 1996 01:19:50 -0500 (EST)  
  
 ** X-WRITERS is a fan-fiction e-mail group. Though our theme is the   
 X-Men, Marvel (which owns that product) has not given us permission to   
 use that product and all characters related to it. We similarly are not   
 sponsored by any other private organization, MUSH, individual, etc.   
 Finally, we are a non-profit bunch of amateur comic book wannabe-writers,   
 we ain't got the money for a lawsuit... so don't even bother. **  
                                
Notes: Trying out a style more similar to the rest of the team. It's   
easier to gauge if you've written enough. Things in *star things* are   
thoughts.  
  
                   EXCALIBUR #93 (January issue)   
                        "A Powerful Legacy."  
  
        Written by Marysia   
  
 ------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  Cover: Large Phantazia in background with cloak spread out and smaller  
   in the foreground Blob facing Nightcrawler and Shadowcat.  
 ------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
  It was December the 30th and the air was clear and cold over Muir   
Island, frost still coating the ground from the night before. The sun so   
low on the horizon at that time of the year that it could'nt get up   
enough heat to melt it and shadows ran off into the distance as if it   
were evening. The wind was unusually calm as Dr's Henry McCoy and Moira   
McTaggart took a break from their work to walk along the beach, wrapped   
against the chill, breath curling from their mouths as they breathed. The   
Legacy Virus still mystified them both, the secret to it's structure   
always only just out of reach. Both had vested interests in the cure but   
most especially Dr McTaggart, the first and so far only, non-mutant to   
contract the Legacy Virus. And yet it's means of transmission is still   
unknown as is the effect it will have on her. She can feel it inside her,   
weakening her, making the cold cut deep into her bones, spreading through   
the cells of her body. But how it will bring about her end is a   
frightening unknown... a terrifying secret. And she waits day by day for   
its revelation.  
  
   They looked out to sea to watch a boat head for the mainland. Cutting   
a white trail through the choppy sea.  
  
   "Well that'll be that Pete Wisdom chappie off back tae England then.   
Ah canna say ah'm sorry t'see him go. Though ah'll admit it wis nice tae   
have someone tae yell at f'r a while," noted Moira. "But it's best that   
he leaves now an' let Kitty get over whitever happened while they were   
doon in London."  
  
   They turned back to face one another.  
  
   "I had noticed she'd been very quiet. Do you have any idea what   
happened?" Beast asked.  
  
   "In this case ah dinna think ah want tae know," she answered.  
  
                             - - - -  
  
   Pete Wisdom slouched, arms crossed against the cold wind produced by   
the boats speed. He was returning home to England. Following one of the   
few rules he lived his life by. "When things go sour don't wait around   
for them to get worse. Leave while you still can." And maybe he hadn't   
got that much to go back to now that he'd broken with Black Air and maybe   
he would still think of her every now and then. But that was just life.  
  
   He lit a cigarette then changed his mind after one draw and threw it   
overboard.  
  
   The boat rushed on toward the mainland of Scotland.  
  
                              - - - -  
  
   Kurt sat in the control room staring out a window as Amanda perched on   
a table talking to him.  
  
   "I've told Moira about Rory... about Ahab. She agrees that he needs   
more help than we can give him. She said she'd arrange something," she  
told him. "I don't know what she has planned."   
  
   "Hmm..."  
  
   Things had not been quite right between these two recently and she   
felt perhaps it was time she told him what she was thinking. Especially  
as she had already gone as far as to do something about it. She tugged  
nervously at a hank of the golden hair that fell over her shoulder as she  
spoke.  
  
   "Kurt... there's something I've been wanting to talk to you about."  
  
   Kurt, looked concerned, "Vas?"  
  
   *He's not going to like this,* she thought. "You know I've never   
really been into this super-hero thing and ever since I moved in here   
with you... well I've been treated as part of the team. I mean that's   
great and all... but... I don't actually _want_ to be part of the team."  
  
   She looked away from him. "I've decided to go back to work. I've got a   
job stewarding again. I can work from the airport at Stornoway so I don't   
have to move too far away, just over to Lewis..."  
  
   "You don't have to move out surely?" he asked.  
  
   She laughed, "Well it might be a _little_ hard to drive to work from   
here and I'm not exactly boatswoman of the year you know."  
  
   He looked thoughtful for a minute then spoke again, "Then let me come   
with you. With my power I can get back here in seconds if I'm needed."  
  
   Amanda smiled, "Kurt do you really want..."  
  
   Her face suddenly glazed over.   
  
   "Amanda? Are you alright?"  
  
   She came back to herself quickly and replied, "After the soul sword   
incident I set wards around the island to let me know if anyone with ill   
intent came ashore. Someone just set them off."  
  
   Kurt turned quickly to the computers and scanners and began searching.  
"I'm not getting any readings but that doesn't mean there's no-one there.   
Can you tell me where?"  
  
   "They came through the wards on the west coast, near where Dr McCoy   
and Moira went. But I don't know where they are now."  
  
   He stood up. "I'll take Kitty out and we'll see what's happening. Put   
out a call to Britan... Brian and Meggan to fly back in case we need   
them. You stay here and make sure no-one gets into the building."  
  
   He disappeared in a puff of smoke as Amanda put a call out to their   
team mates who were picking up some supplies over on Stornoway.   
  
                               - - - -  
          
   Fred J Dukes better known as the Blob, last known affiliation... the  
Brotherhood of Evil Mutants, sits alone on a rock. He is beginning to   
think it's time to design a new costume. "It's too damn cold for this.   
Why couldn't we attack an island in the Bahamas? Not that anyone's going   
to answer me of course. Stay here Blob, you're just the back-up. I hate   
being the damn back-up."   
  
   Behind him appeared Nightcrawler with Kitty.   
  
   "Over there... Blob," she pointed out.  
  
   "Let us find out why he is here then."  
  
                              - - - -  
  
   Mortimer Toynbee, the Toad, and Phantazia moved through the stunted   
trees. They were the two other remaining members of the Brotherhood of   
Evil Mutants. But what interest did they have in Muir Island?  
  
   "All goes to plan Phantazia. Your powers have hidden us from their  
sensors as expected. With most of the team on Lewis we can strike the lab   
and get the information we need before they have time to react. And if we   
do have problems the Blob is there to remove them. A masterful plan even   
if I do say so myself."  
  
   "You talk too much, we are almost there," replied Phantazia.   
  
                              - - - -  
  
   As Blob sat silently, waiting, he was shocked to see Shadowcat's head   
poke out of his chest. "Hi there," she said. "Care to tell us what you're   
doing on our island?"  
  
   He jumped away and she was left standing in the rock he had been  
sitting on, arms crossed. "You can't touch me while I'm phased so there's   
no point attacking me. I on the other hand can kill you as easily as I  
can walk through a wall so don't push me, I'm not in the mood."  
  
   Kurt looked shocked but kept silent, he would talk to her later about   
why they were the good guys and the Brotherhood were the bad guys.  
  
   Blob on the other hand clearly didn't believe her. "You won't hurt me,  
you're X-Men. So I ain't telling you nothing."  
  
   "Alright then," Shadowcat started forward.  
  
   "Kitty no!" Kurt bamfed in front of her and grabbed her arm but his   
hand passed right though it as she passed through him.   
  
   Blob didn't seem to understand as she raised a simple stick of wood  
she had picked up earlier. "What'cha gonna do kid? Beat me to death with  
your little stick?"  
  
   She smiled and stopped, holding the stick half in and half out of  
Blob's wide stomach. "The minute I let go of this stick it will become   
solid. I want you to consider just how painful that will be and then I   
want you to tell me why you're here."  
  
   The Blob gaped at her.  
  
                             - - - -  
  
   Seeing no-one watching Toad and Phantazia stepped out of the shadows   
and approached the door, confident that their mission was nearly   
accomplished. The Legacy Virus research material would sell well to the   
highest bidder and announce to the world that the Brotherhood was as   
strong as ever. Toad suddenly found he was no longer moving forward. It  
was as if he had hit a brick wall although there was northing there.   
  
   "Phantazia!" he snapped.  
  
   She paused a moment then answered, "I can do nothing. The barrier is   
magical in origin, my powers have no effect on it."  
  
   "No!" he bounced off the barrier once more then sat silent a moment.   
Finally he stood up and moved away.  
  
   "Mortimer?"  
  
   There was no reply.  
  
                              - - - -  
  
   A voice floated into the air over the silent tableau of Nightcrawler,   
Shadowcat and the Blob.   
  
   "Kurt? Someone just tried to enter the compound."  
  
   Shadowcat raised an eyebrow at the Blob.  
  
   "Toad!" he blurted. "It must have been Toad, he wants into the lab to   
steal the information you have on the Legacy Virus."  
  
   "Thank you." She let her arm drop.  
  
                              - - - -  
  
   As Toad hurried silently back to the boat, shadowed by Phantazia, they   
heard voices. Familiar voices. Toad drew nearer to the path only to see   
the broad back of Dr Henry McCoy as he pointed out something to the woman   
with him.  
  
   "Perhaps I can regain some point to this endevour," Toad whispered to   
himself drawing out a small pistol.  
  
                               - - - -  
  
   Moira's attention wandered as they discussed the flora of the island   
and a small rustle drew her eyes to the bushes along the path. She saw   
the gun before she saw the man, saw the finger tightening on the trigger.  
As if she could stop him she stepped forward, hand outstretched.  
  
   "No!"  
  
   There was a sound, a flash of light. She was too late.  
  
   But wait, Beast still stood beside her, staring in amazement. It was   
the gunman that lay on his back between the trees. And then he was gone,   
picked up by a swoop of cloak as if by a bird of prey.  
  
   Nightcrawler appeared in a flash of smoke. "I heard a shout, what   
happened?"  
  
   Moira stared at her hand in astonishment. It smarted as if she had   
been clapping too hard.  
  
   "That's something I'd like to know too," replied Beast.  
  
                               - - - -  
  
   Shadowcat saw Blob look with relief at someone behind her but before   
she could turn around her powers failed and one light punch from the Blob  
dropped her to the ground.  
  
   "Hurry Blob, the mission has failed." Phantazia placed the unconscious   
Toad in the speed boat and they left.  
  
                               - - - -  
  
   It was the morning of December the 31st. Dr McCoy had returned to   
America and Excalibur sat in the briefing room. Moira came in. She looked   
as if she hadn't slept and indeed, she hadn't. She began immediately.  
  
   "After conducting tests Dr McCoy and I have concluded that the mutant   
powers I aparantly displayed yesterday are a further symptom of my   
infection with the Legacy Virus. We had been unsure how the virus would   
affect a non-mutant, how it could... kill... a non-mutant. And now we   
know. The virus inserts a new strand of foreign DNA into the hosts cells,  
actually right into one of the chromosomes. I am what could be known as a   
transgenic mutant. The mutant power will allow the virus to kill me, and   
others, by the same method it kills mutants," she paused. "Happy New Year   
everyone." She left the room. There was silence.  
  
                             The End.  
  
Next issue: Psylocke comes to visit and the team finds something lurking   
in Glasgow Underground.


	4. Excalibur #94

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Psylocke visits (see Uncanny X-Men #328), X-Factor picks up Spoor (see X-Factor #122).

  
X-Writers is a fan-fiction e-mail group. The characters we use belong to  
Marvel Comics. We are a non-profit non- (or should that be un-)  
professional organisation so don't sue us, please. We have no money anyway.  
  
\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -   
Excalibur #94  "Friends and Relations"  
by Marysia   
\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -   
Cover: Nightcrawler and Amanda Sefton on a boat waving to the rest of team  
on shore.  
  
Excalibur were arrayed on the wooden pier, wrapped up against the biting  
west wind. Their faces were a patchwork of emotions. Amanda looked  
radiantly happy, but then why not. She was getting her independence without  
losing the man she loved, the best of both worlds. Kurt Wagner was not  
quite so exuberant. Although he was glad to be getting a little privacy for  
himself and Amanda, he was worried about leaving the team. Even if he was  
only a bamf away. Douglock's face was as expressionless as ever, if you had  
been able to see inside his head you would know that he was thinking a  
million things at once. Calculating the air speed, comparing the colours of   
the sky with other skies he had seen, counting the blades of wiry grass  
beneath his feet. Rahne Sinclair looked thoughtful, sending up a prayer   
for a good crossing and a happy home. Dr Moira McTaggart looked distracted,  
it was very little that could take her away from her work on the Legacy  
Virus these days. Fighting to learn as much as she could before she   
was too sick to continue. Captain Britain looked angry, he felt Kurt was  
deserting his post as the team leader. But he was also jealous, that Kurt  
was moving in with Amanda when he could hardly talk to Meggan. She looked   
deserted, Kurt had been a good friend during everything that had happened  
and she still felt unsure around Brian. What if she accepted him only to  
find out Amanda had been wrong, she had been fooled so easily and  
completely before. Dr Rory Campbell was not present, he was under   
sedation awaiting admittance into a local mental hospital after being  
diagnosed as paranoid, delusional and possibly violent. The staff had been  
briefed about the reasons for his behaviour. Pete Wisdom was also not  
present, had not been present for nearly three weeks. How he feels right   
now is anyones' guess.  
  
Kurt helped Amanda aboard and the boat pushed away. Douglock raised a  
camera and snapped a photo as they floated away, his new hobby. According  
to Dr McTaggart everyone should have a hobby, or so she had said to him   
when he had asked her why she spent so much time in the lab. Soon the boat  
was just a speck racing toward the island of Lewis.  
  
Most of the team headed back inside out of the cold wind but Brian waited.  
The boat would be coming back with his sister on board. She was not the  
sort of person to take the news that her brother had not actually been her  
brother for the past few months but had in fact been an impostor from   
another world without wanting some sort of proof. So she was coming to  
check him out and make sure everything was as it should be.   
  
In fact there was more coming and going than there had been for a while  
these days. What with Wisdom, Kurt and Amanda leaving. Beast and now Betsy  
visiting. And tomorrow X-Factor were coming to pick up Spoor. Then   
the day after Rory would be leaving for that hospital on the mainland. He  
ought to count himself as well really, and the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants.  
He sat down on the ground, his back to the wind, and began to pick at the  
grass. He should have insisted that he fly over and pick Betsy up, he   
hated waiting around. Besides it was cold. He was wearing normal clothing  
as opposed to his Captain Britain outfit. To tell the truth he hadn't put  
that on since he had got back. Every time she saw it Meggan looked at him  
with those sad puppy-dog eyes as if he'd kicked her. He could only hope  
Betsy would be able to tell him what to he could do to remedy the  
situation.   
  
He let his mind wander back to before he had left. They had been staying at  
Braddock Manor then. Speaking of which, where was everyone? He'd asked Kurt  
about Cerise when they'd had a moment only to be greeted by an awkward  
silence and a promise to explain it some other time. After that he had  
decided just to wait and see if someone would tell him what had happened to  
Kylun and Feron. Nobody had. Perhaps he should ask after all. He stood up  
and spotted Kitty wandering along the beach, kicking savagely at any pebble  
that happened to get in her way. She had been very... violent lately. He  
ran after her.  
  
"Kitty!"  
  
She turned round to him with a scowl. You know I've been thinking of  
changing that. I'm not a little kid anymore you know. Call me... Kate."  
  
"Uh... right, Kate. I was just going to ask you what happened to Feron?"  
  
"Feron?" she frowned. "No... we couldn't have..." she muttered.   
  
"Couldn't have what?"  
  
She looked up at him with complete amazement on her face. "We forgot, we  
completely forgot. He was under the waterfall... at Braddock Manor. We  
moved to Muir and we forgot to tell him!" She broke up into hysterical  
laughter. "Brilliant.... absolutely brilliant."  
  
"You mean you just left him there, under a waterfall?"  
  
"Yes! Isn't it a scream? Thanks Brian, I really needed that."   
  
She walked off along the beach leaving him staring at her in amazement.  
*This has got to be some kind of joke,* he thought to himself. *They  
couldn't have just forgotten him, that's ridiculous. Isn't it?* He headed  
back to the pier to wait for his sister.  
  
 - - - -  
  
After fifteen minutes of shivering in the icy wind he caught sight of the  
boat returning from Lewis. He stood up to greet it as it pulled up slowly  
to the wooden pier. Betsy climbed out before he could offer her his hand.  
She walked up to him and examined his face critically. He smiled, nervous   
under her close scrutiny.  
  
"Well," she said finally. "You certainly look like my brother, but then so  
did he. Only one way to be sure."  
  
"Betsy. No!" But his cry of surprise was too late, a purple dagger pierced  
his skull and ripped into his mind. He dropped to his knees.  
  
Betsy withdrew the mind probe and looked rather guiltily at the body at her  
feet. "Sorry Bri," she whispered. "But you know I had to be sure." With a  
strength unexpected in her slim frame she hoisted his limp body over her  
shoulder and headed up to the house  
  
 - - - -  
  
Rahne was showing Douglock through her old photo albums. He really seemed  
to be getting into this photograph taking.  
  
"This is you with Elizabeth Braddock, she's Brian's sister, an X-Man. She's  
coming to visit Brian today."  
  
"That is not me, that is Douglas Ramsey."  
  
"Aye right Doug, whatever ye say."  
  
"I have been reading up on the inability of humans to accept truths that  
they do not find pleasant, it is very interesting. Do you know of anyone  
else who refuses to believe I am not Douglas Ramsey? I would like to   
interview them so that I can compare."  
  
Rahne laughed nervously as if the question were a joke. "An' this picture  
is Amara and Bobby, Bobby's a member of X-Force now."  
  
"What happened to Amara?"  
  
"She left Doug, ye remember, t' go home t' Nova Roma."  
  
They heard the front door open and turned around as someone entered the  
room.  
  
Elizabeth Braddock gave a small gasp of shock and dropped her limp brother  
on his head. He groaned faintly and Rahne moved to see if he was alright.  
  
Betsy stared at Douglock. "Douglas?" Then she shook herself, "No. You must  
be... Douglock." She said the name with some distaste.  
  
"That is correct. You are Elizabeth Braddock."  
  
She nodded curtly then turned and walked out of the room without saying  
another word. Brian sat up, putting his hand to his head. "Bets?"  
  
"She's gone. Whit happened?"  
  
"Just my sisters' way of saying hello. If you don't mind, I think I hear an  
aspirin calling my name." He hauled himself to his feet and staggered out  
of the room.  
  
 - - - -  
  
Betsy wandered into the television room where she found Meggan watching a  
cartoon. She looked round as Betsy entered.  
  
"Betsy. But where's Brian? Have you... spoken to him yet?"  
  
"Yes, I've seen him." Betsy smiled, "He's probably regaining consciouness  
about now."  
  
"So you know... whether he's..."  
  
Betsy sat down next to Meggan and took her hand. "It is Brian. I have no  
doubts about it."  
  
Meggan began to cry, "Then it's all true."  
  
Betsy pulled her close as she spoke. "I know this has been hard Meggan but  
you can't blame yourself for not knowing. You wanted it so much to be him  
and he seemed to have such good explanations for his transformation. Let it  
go, it's done with. I'm sure Brian understands."  
  
"But how can he? After what I've done. I've been... unfaithful to him. Why  
should he want me back now?"  
  
"Shh. I'm sure it's not like that. Let me talk to him. Everything will be  
fine. I promise."  
  
 - - - -  
  
Betsy brought up the subject the next morning as she and Brian walked along  
the shore. This was only a flying visit, she was returning to America when  
X-Factor picked up Spoor to return him to prison. If she didn't do this now  
she wouldn't have time later.  
  
"So how are things with you and Meggan?" she asked, testing the waters.  
  
Brian shook his head slowly. "Not so good. It's like she can't even talk to  
me anymore. I think she blames me, that she feels she can't trust me  
anymore. She accepted the imposter as me completely, easily understood  
since he had my memories mixed in with his during the transfer... Rachel  
could have told the difference but she was gone. I feel so guilty about  
that. She should still be here."  
  
"It's not your fault that Rachel's gone Bri, she did what everyone thought  
was the best thing to do at the time. And I think you've got the wrong idea  
about Meggan too."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Have you ever thought that maybe she blames herself, not you? That she  
doesn't think _you_ can trust _her_ anymore?"  
  
"But... blame her for what?"  
  
"For not seeing through his disguise of course. For not knowing it wasn't  
you. You have to tell her you understand, Brian. Just let her know you  
still love her, that's all."  
  
"That's it?"  
  
Betsy laughed, "I think you'll find that is usually all that's ever needed.  
Now promise me you'll get this sorted out. I fully expect to attend your  
wedding one day."  
  
"I'll try," he promised. Then he smiled, "And who knows, perhaps there'll  
be a wedding sooner than you think."  
  
 - - - -  
  
Rahne tried not to look too bored as Valerie Cooper tried to make small  
talk. She listened with half an ear and made sure she nodded and smiled or  
looked sympathetic at all the right places, although she was glad to hear  
Guido was recovering. Finally she came to the point.  
  
"So how long are you planning to stay on Muir, Rahne?"  
  
"Ah, that wis whit ah wus wantin' t' talk t' ye aboot Dr Cooper. Ah'm  
afraid ah won't be comin' back t' America t' rejoin X-Factor. Ah'll be  
stayin' here wi' Excalibur as part o' the team. Ah hope that's no gonae  
inconvenience ye any."  
  
Valerie nodded thoughtfully. "To tell the truth I had expected this. Well I  
hope you're happy here. I'll give your regards to the others."  
  
"Aye, right. Well ah'll be seein' ye around then."  
  
"Yes. Good-bye Rahne."  
  
"Goodbye Dr Cooper."  
  
 - - - -  
  
Moira dragged herself out of her lab again to supervise the removal of  
Spoor from the premises. Nightcrawler had returned for the event as the  
easiest way to ensure no escape was to teleport him directly from the cell  
to the plane. Val Cooper joined them down in the cell.  
  
"Time to go home Spoor."  
  
"Aw, an' it's so nice an' cosy down here in the dungeon. Ain't Dr Campbell  
comin' t'say bye bye?"  
  
Moira glared at Spoor silently.  
  
"How is Dr Campbell?" asked Val.  
  
"He'll be just fine," Moira answered, daring Spoor to deny it. He chose not  
to answer, but there was a knowing gleam in his eye. Moira injected him  
with a sedative and it faded. Kurt entered the cell and secured Spoor with  
heavy cuffs before he unlocked the restraints that bound him to wall of   
the room. Then with a bamf they were gone.  
  
They reappeared onboard the plane which contained Mystique and Wildchild as  
well as Betsy and Brian saying their goodbyes. Kurt made eye contact  
questioningly with Mystique as they secured Spoor. She led him down to the   
cockpit where they had some privacy.  
  
"It is... good to see you again Kurt."  
  
He was silent.  
  
"I suppose I should apologise for... well for a lot of things. I'm sorry it  
was so long before you found out I was alive. I guess once you've let your  
son go once it's easy to do it again. But... I never stopped thinking about  
you." She reached out and took his hand. "I may not be the mother you  
always wanted Kurt, but I am your mother and I will always... love you. I  
would like it if we could at least keep in touch from now on. Will you do  
that for me?"  
  
He cleared his throat nervously. "I would like that Mystique, very much."   
  
 - - - -  
  
The plane took off into the grey sky with a rush off air. Brian and Kurt  
watched it until it had gone out of sight. Leaving Muir Island a slightly  
happier place than before. Leaving a little new hope for fresh starts.  
Brian turned and ran inside to find Meggan.


	5. X-Men Unlimited #10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the return of Feron!

Published:          Wed, 24 Jan 1996 17:49:09  
  
X-Men Unlimited #10 by Marysia   
  
Apologies if this is crap but I'm in a hurry. All these characters   
belong to Marvel not me. X-Writers is a non-commercial group   
and are only doing this for all the lovely stress it creates. Please   
don't try to sue us, we don't have any money anyway. Things in   
*these* are thoughts. I'm sure my tenses are shot to hell but I   
just can't get a handle on them today.  
  
The Butter Knife Is Drawn.  
  
  
    Allison Crestmere is a good waitress, if a little quiet. She is   
fast and doesn't argue with the customers. But then she doesn't   
exactly talk to them either. She just gets on with her work. Needless   
to say she doesn't get on very well with the rest of the staff.   
She could be pretty, should be pretty. She has shoulder length   
blonde hair, quite curly, that hangs lank with the smoke and grease   
in the air of the cafe. Delicate skin that has a grey tinge. There are   
shadows under her eyes. She works nights as a bar-maid. London   
is an expensive city, especially when you're on your own.   
  
    She came here to find herself but instead she got lost. Little   
Allison Crestmere against the big city, I guess you can see who won.   
  
    But Allison has another name. One that she cast away as a lie at   
the words of a woman she had never trusted. Already disillusioned   
she let her life be ripped away from her. Amara Aquila, daughter  
of a senator, child of Nova Roma. Sometimes at night she prays to   
the Gods that it seems no-one else believes in to make it all a dream.   
Take me home. Please take me home. I just want to go home.  
  
    But there is no more home. There never was. Was there? All a lie.   
But if it was all a lie why can she find no trace of herself here. In this   
country that she was supposedly stolen from. There is no file for   
Allison Crestmere, runaway. No picture of a golden haired child, no   
worried parents. No birth certificate. No explanations.  
  
    No explanations and no money. Sold her return ticket to America   
for the down-payment on the grotty room she rents. Too proud and   
too scared to call on her third life for help.  
  
    Her third name, yet another identity. Magma. Both New Mutant and   
Hellion. But how can she call on them. The Hellions are dead, the New   
Mutants disbanded. Last she heard they were outlaws. Besides she  
hasn't failed yet, not yet.  
  
    She hasn't even used her mutant powers for so long. She's pushed   
them down, afraid to hurt someone. Afraid of the powers she can no   
longer control. For with the release of her powers comes the release   
of all the anger and fear inside her, they carry her away with them   
until she can't think. Can't remember Amara or Allison, only Magma.  
  
    She checks her watch. Time to go. An hour for dinner before she   
has to be at the bar to put on another apron and start again.  
  
    She doesn't notice the man who follows her out of the small cafe.   
Perhaps if she hadn't been so tired she would have noticed that he'd   
sat in there and watched her, looking at no-one else for more than an   
instant, for over three hours. Perhaps if she was more friendly to the   
other waitresses they might have pointed this out to her. They nearly   
did at the end of the shift but she left so quickly. She always does. The  
man had to run to catch up. Not that it mattered if he lost her. You see   
he knows where she lives. He knows when she leaves and where she  
goes. He knows what she buys for her lunch and how she drinks her tea.   
  
    He even knows her name. It's Pretty Daisy. Her fourth name. The   
one only he knows. Because he gave it to her, the first time he saw   
her at the bar. *Pretty Daisy with long blonde hair. Pretty Daisy who   
looks so tired. Shouldn't have to work so hard. Shouldn't have to live   
on her own. Not when I am here, to love her and care for her and keep   
her safe, inside, where no-one else can see her. Where no-one will   
ever hear her crying. No-one ever heard Little Rosebud. Not even when   
she screamed and screamed and screamed and...*  
  
   He shook his head. He would get left behind if he didn't hurry up.  
  
    It was five to seven when Allison left her flat. She was going to   
be late again. He raised his head from the bin as she ran past him.   
*Oops, should have hidden.* But he'd found so many great things.  
Her things. He quickly stowed them in his pockets and followed   
her to the bar. He had found Little Rosebud here too. Only Rosebud   
had been one of the strippers. Pretty Daisy was too shy for that.  
She still blushed when the men put their hands up her skirt as she   
walked past them with her hands full of drinks. He sat in the corner   
and watched her. He liked to pretend she had asked him to come  
here, told him she felt safer knowing he was there to watch her, to   
keep her safe from the other men. And afterwards he would take her   
back to his house. Yes, tonight he would take her back to his house.  
  
    Allison left the bar in the early hours of the morning. By the   
back entrance to avoid the drunken men who would paw at her like   
they did any woman who got close enough. She didn't think of them   
as people, because it would break her heart to think that people could   
treat her that way. They were animals. She followed the darkened   
back-alleys and side-streets towards home. For a paltry four hours   
sleep before she has to get up for work again. She walks with her   
eyes half closed, wishing she were asleep already. She is far too   
tired to hear the footsteps. Unaware of her situation until it should   
have been too late.  
  
    Should have been. For any other young girl alone in the middle of   
the night. Perhaps if she had known what his intentions were she   
would have felt less guilty. Perhaps if she had seen his photograph   
album or the videos or the broken body of Little Rosebud, better   
known as Sandra Dunne to her frightened family and the police who   
were still searching for her, rotting under the old floorboards. But   
all she saw was the expression of fear and pain on his face, that   
lasted only an instant, and then the smouldering remains of a man.  
  
    Terrified, Allison Crestmere ran.  
  
\- - - -  
  
    "Lockheed? Gone again. Don't know why he bothers to come at all.   
It's not like the thing likes me or anything." The speaker is a young man,   
a boy really. He is skinny and pale with untidy brown hair. His voice has   
an Irish accent, not especially strong. He wears a green t-shirt and jeans.   
He is talking to himself, he does that quite a lot. It's not like there's any-  
one else to talk to. Not anymore. He sometimes wonders what happened   
to them. But he's never really in the mood to check. It happened like this   
you see.  
  
   One day they were all here and then most of them vanished off into   
space with these people called Starjammers (Excalibur #67). But they   
were supposed to come back. They'd left him behind as well as two   
others. One of the others was sitting in a waterfall being depressed   
and he'd gone to try and cheer her up (Excalibur #70) but something   
had happened. He'd sort of looked into her eyes and all of a sudden   
he'd felt so depressed and empty. He didn't really remember much   
for a while after that. When he'd finally got bored being depressed  
under a waterfall they'd all gone. He'd been too depressed to go  
looking for them so he'd stayed here. At Braddock Manor. Sometimes  
when he felt really depressed, as opposed to just his normal level of   
depression, he tried sitting in the waterfall for a while. He reasoned   
that if he was that depressed he wouldn't care if he was cold and wet   
and when he did start caring about being cold and wet he must be less   
depressed and so he went back inside. Well it made sense to him   
anyway. As a result he had a tendency to colds and flu. He hated  
having a cold, it made him depressed. Oh by the way, his name is  
Feron. He's easily recognised. He's the one whose feet don't seem   
to touch the ground. His mothers name is Fenchurch strangely enough.   
But having been brought up by monks he doesn't know that.  
  
    He goes back inside after a thoughtful look at the waterfall.   
*Not today,* he thinks. *It looks like rain.* He has just sat down  
when there is a banging on the door. A somewhat frantic pounding.   
He isn't sure whether to be interested in who might be there, hardly   
anyone comes round, or depressed at his silence being disturbed. He   
plumps for depressed, why change now? He goes to answer the door   
anyway.  
  
    It's a girl. Somewhat mucky and tired looking. "What do you want?"  
  
    "I'm looking for Excalibur, don't they live here?"  
  
    He gives a short and rather sarcastic, "Hah!" He studies her for   
a moment. "I suppose you better come inside then."  
  
    She follows him into the grand house. It seems empty, a bit   
dusty. Very quiet. "Are they out?" she asks.  
  
    "Yes," he answers. "I... don't know when they'll be back. Perhaps   
never."  
  
    "What?"  
  
    "Perhaps they're dead. They could be I suppose. It's all rather   
depressing don't you think?"  
  
    "I don't understand. Where are they? I need to see them."  
  
    "They're gone. I'm Feron by the way. I was a member of Excalibur   
but they left me behind here. It's a bit... well... depressing. But I think I   
said that already."  
  
    She looked upset. "I think I better leave."   
  
    As she turned to go he grabbed her arm. "No wait!"  
  
    She pulled away, falling to the floor. "Don't touch me!" The   
ground rumbled alarmingly.   
  
    He looked at her with more interest. "I'm not going to hurt you.   
You're a mutant? Do... did Excalibur know you?"  
  
    "My name is... Amara. I knew Rachael best I guess but I met   
Shadowcat and Nightcrawler too."  
  
    He looked thoughtful. "The Phoenix Force is loose," he told her.   
"That's why I think maybe they're dead, but who knows. Sometimes   
I feel it but it won't come to me. It's all a bit..."  
  
    "Depressing. Yes I know," she interrupted him. "Look is it all   
right if I stay here a while? I just... need somewhere to stay for   
a while. That's all."  
  
    He seemed to be drifting away. "Sure. Make yourself at home. If   
you'll excuse me, I think I'll go and sit in the waterfall for a little while."  
  
    "What?" But he had already left. Exhausted she sat down on the   
stairs and fell asleep there.   
  
    When she woke up he was back. Hovering cross-legged about a foot   
off the floor. He looked excited, in a slightly depressed kind of way.  
  
    "I have an idea."  
  
    "Oh good," she said unconvincingly as she sat up. She felt awful.   
Her mind was fixating on the thought of having a bath.  
  
    "We could start our own super-hero team!" he declared.  
  
    "What? Are you mad?"  
  
    "Well you know, sometimes I worry. I think maybe my mind is   
slipping away from me. It's all a bit..."  
  
    "Oh Jupiter!"   
  
    Unfortunately now that he had the idea in his head there was no   
stopping him. He placed adverts in the papers and in shop windows.  
  
    Wanted: Super-heroes to form new team. Mutants welcome. Free   
                   bed and board. No time-wasters please.  
  
    Amara suspected the free bed and board had more to do with the   
number of replies he got than the desire to fight for truth or justice.   
After discovering that the first fifty applicants had no super-powers   
of any description he pronounced it to be all a bit depressing. She   
ignored him and watched the television.   
  
    The body had been found but not identified. She must have been   
reported missing by now but would they link her disappearance with   
it? Even if they did how would they find her? In a fit of panic she dyed   
her hair red and cut it shorter. Feron commented that sometimes,   
when he was depressed, he thought about shaving his head. She   
contemplated shaving it for him while he was asleep but it would  
 probably just make him depressed. What didn't?  
  
 - - - -  
  
    Tom Jones was a student. Molecular Biochemistry to be precise.   
And Tom liked to be very precise. He'd gone to University to find out   
how to change two trolls from gold back to flesh. You see Tom   
is a mutant. His other name is Alchemy (see X-Factor #42). He'd   
discovered that he couldn't. Not that he'd told anyone else that. He'd   
bluffed his way through it. He'd been lucky that it worked, the   
consequences could have been... unpleasant. Anyway the trolls were   
still gold. Good thing nobody really cared about the fate of trolls. Well   
apart from other trolls.  
  
    He could have got a decent job when he finished his degree but to   
tell the truth he had rather gone off Chemistry by then. It just reminded  
him how complex the world was. Besides it wasn't like he needed the   
money, not when he could turn lead into gold. Or copper or tin. The   
possibilities had seemed endless a few years ago. Now it seemed   
like there was nothing but limits, the limits of his mind. How many   
molecular properties can you hold in your mind at the same time?   
Not very many. Certainly not enough to bring back those trolls, the   
very idea seemed laughable.  
  
    He opened the morning paper as he contemplated what pointless   
things he could do today to fill his time. A bath, maybe even two. A  
long lunch. Then he saw it.  
  
    The word rolled around his head. "Super-hero."  
  
    Well it sure had to beat layabout. His Mum was always getting on   
at him to do something that would make a difference. Or failing that to   
do something full stop. Well this was something all right.  
  
  
 - - - -  
  
Dear Sir/Madam,  
                               I am writing to inquire about your advert in the   
local paper. You state you are looking for "super-heroes" to form   
a new team. I would be most interested in joining this team. I   
have worked with the X-Men, X-Factor and Excalibur and am myself a   
mutant. My name is Tom Jones and I am nineteen years old. My mutant  
power is to transform elements from one type to another. I hope to hear  
from you soon.  
                                           Yours sincerely,  
                                                                     Tom Jones (Alchemy).  
  
 - - - -  
  
    Feron brandished the letter under Amara's nose. "Look. It's   
Alchemy!"  
  
    "Looks like a letter to me. What are you going to do? Turn it   
into gold?"  
  
    "No. Alchemy. His power is to change the molecular make-up of   
objects. To turn lead into gold. He wants to join our team."  
  
    "Your team you mean."  
  
    "I don't know why I bother. I always seem to get stuck with the   
depressive females." Feron sat cross legged on the floor and   
allowed his face to take on a hang-dog look. "It's all so depressing."  
  
    Amara ignored him and watched the news. They had identified the   
body from dental records. The police were trying to find any relatives.   
Sometimes she thought about giving herself in, anything to get away   
from Feron. *I did it,* she thought at the television screen. *It was me,   
I killed him. I... killed him.*  
  
 - - - -  
  
    Alchemy arrived at Braddock Manor the next day with two suitcases   
and a rucksack. He seemed surprised at only two of them being there.  
  
    "So what is this new team going to be called?" he asked   
cheerfully.  
  
    Feron looked confused at this. "I hadn't thought of that. We   
could call ourselves Excalibur," he added hopefully.  
  
    "But Excalibur call themselves Excalibur," Alchemy told him.  
  
    "You mean they are still alive?"  
  
    "Sure. They're up on Muir Island now."  
  
    "Oh." Feron sounded rather disappointed.  
  
    "Didn't you know that?"  
  
    "No." His tone was icy. "Now if you'll excuse me I have to go and   
check on the waterfall." He glided out the door.  
  
    "The what?"  
  
    "Never mind," sighed Amara. "He's a bit... strange. Was he always   
so depressed?"  
  
    "I don't know, I didn't know him for long. Why didn't he know   
where Excalibur were? I thought he was a member."  
  
    "Don't ask me. They probably got sick of listening to him.   
Anyway, your room's up here."   
  
    He followed her up the stairs. "Umm... I'm Tom, Tom Jones. Who're   
you?"  
  
    "Oh! A... Amara. Amara Aquila."  
  
    He nodded. "So is it just us three then?"  
  
    "Don't go including me, this was his idea."  
  
    "So you're not a mutant then?"  
  
    "Well... yes. But I haven't really been in the super-hero   
business for a while. I gave it up."  
  
    "Oh."  
  
    Thankfully he didn't ask any more questions.  
  
 - - - -  
  
    There weren't any more serious replies to Feron's advert. Hardly   
surprising really. She doubted most mutants would trust it. Of course   
Feron was depressed by this. Amara kept watching the television.   
And then it happened.  
  
    They found Little Rosebud under the floorboards of the dead man's   
house. They found the photographs and the videos. And Amara found   
out how close she had come to that icy term, a fate worse than death.  
  
    She switched the television off and stared at the wall for an   
hour. Thinking. Thinking that maybe they could have found that girl, if   
they'd known. Thinking about a dream that she had lost when she   
became Allison Crestmere. She went out to the waterfall.  
  
    "How about the New Mutants?" she asked him. "I don't think   
anyone's using that one any more."  
  
    He smiled.  
  
  
The End, or just the beginning.  
  



	6. The Shadowlands Arc

I'm afraid you'll have to pop off and read X-Men #49 and Wolverine #100 (once I've uploaded them) before you can read the next issue. Such is the nature of comics.


	7. Pete Wisdom Limited Series #1-4

The Pete Wisdom Limited Series, a tale about things that happen   
to Pete Wisdom.  
  
Pete Wisdom #1 by Al (Anon)  
  
In which Pete gets mixed up in some stuff he's going to regret  
or "All I wanted was a quiet pint!"  
  
[Disclaimer : Yes, Pete's a Marvel character, and they've got all   
sort of  interesting legal rights pertaining to him.  But this is   
only a bit of fun, and anyway, I'm a penniless not-really-a-student,   
so even if they're going to sue me, they're not going to get much.    
Anything else is copyright to me, Al.  So there.]  
  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------  
He cursed, and lit another cigarette.  He'd spent the last three   
hours waiting for his mark to leave the building.  No sign of him,   
and Matt began to suspect that he'd left by the back way.  That   
was the problem with working solo.  The job had become so   
much harder.  He stepped out of the shelter of the doorway, and   
began to head for home, the light drizzle causing his cigarette to   
sizzle as he walked.  
  
He was an unremarkable man, which only made his work easier.    
Short brown hair, brown eyes.  Average height.  Perfect for   
blending in with the crowd.  He was currently dressed in a long   
black coat, in order to keep the drizzle off, and to conceal the   
equipment he had brought with him for the job.  
  
As he stood at the crossing, waiting for the lights to change, he   
thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye.  Forcing   
himself not to turn around, he glanced up at the building   
opposite, using the glass of its windows as a mirror.  Not the   
clearest reflection in the world, but it would have to do.  
  
Ah, there was the man he'd spotted.  "Not him again!" thought   
Matt.  They might at least send someone halfway competent to   
tail him.  Jasper was a bungler of the worst sort, although Matt    
had to admit that the outfit he was currently wearing was a lot   
more subtle than the Hawaiian shirt he'd been wearing when they   
last met.  
  
The lights changed, and Matt crossed, noting as he did so that   
Jasper remained on the other side of the road.  He'd obviously   
improved at bit at his job.  As he reached the other side he   
absently flicked his cigarette butt away and walked on.  
  
He left the more populated areas of town quickly, pausing only   
once to see if Jasper was still with him, while ostensibly tying his   
shoe.  Yes, there he was, about 40 yards behind on the other side   
of the road still.  He wondered idly what they wanted with him   
this time.  As he approached the alley, he quickened his pace   
slightly, wanting as long as possible in there before Jasper arrived.   
   
He got about a quarter of the way down, then he swiftly climbed   
  
one of the streetlights that bathed the alley in an orange glow.    
The task wasn't made any easier by the light coating of moisture   
from the drizzle, but he'd done this kind of thing hundreds of  
times before.  He balanced himself carefully atop the lamp post as   
Jasper entered the alley.  Jasper looked around, seeking some   
trace of him.  The idiot never thought to look up. Jasper headed   
down the alley, not having any other idea where he'd gone.  Matt   
revised his previous opinion.  Jasper was still an idiot.  He let   
Jasper get about five yards past his hiding place, then he dropped.    
His coat flared as he dropped, exposing the all-black clothes   
underneath, and the miniature crossbow in its holster.  As he   
dropped he pulled the crossbow from its holster, and flipped the   
safety catch off.  
  
There was a thud as his boots hit the concrete.  Jasper turned   
round, his face a mask of surprise, and found himself staring at   
the steel tip of the bolt in the crossbow.  
  
"Evening Jasper.  What do you want this time?"  
  
"Why, hello Matt.  My employers would like to talk to you."  
  
"Tell them to get stuffed.  I'm busy at the moment."  
  
Jasper sighed.  "I was afraid you'd say that.  Now I've got to bring   
you in the hard way."  
  
Matt laughed.  "You?  You were never a match for me.  And   
besides, I'm the one with the weapon pointing at you.  You   
haven't a hope."   
  
Jasper grinned viciously.  "True.  However, my associate has no   
such problems."  
  
Matt felt something hard hit the back of his head, and crumpled   
to the floor like a wet rag.  
  
 - - - -  
  
He awoke some time later, to find himself sitting at a table.  His   
coat was draped across it, as was his holster, empty of its   
crossbow.  A bright light was shining in his face, preventing him   
from seeing the other end of the table.  
  
"Ah, you've awakened," came the voice out of the darkness.    
Deep, probably masculine.  
  
"How observant of you.  Christ on a mini bike, did your goon   
have to hit me that hard?"  
  
"Please accept our apologies.  Quentin has long been one of our   
more enthusiastic operatives."  
  
"So what do you want from me?  And who are you?"  
  
"Merely some information.  You have been hired to watch   
  
someone.  We know who he is.  What we do not know is who   
hired you and why.  You will tell us this."  
  
"Screw you!  Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you.  No-one would   
come to me again, if they knew I'd betrayed an employer.  And   
you haven't answered my other question."  
  
"Come now Mr. Jacobs.  You surely don't expect us to believe   
that a professional, such as yourself, would work for unknown   
employers with no idea of what motivated them, do you?"  
  
"I don't really care if you believe me or not.  That's simply how it   
is.  Let's just say they offered me enough money to make me   
reconsider my curiosity."  
  
"Very well.  As you will.  Take him away."  
  
He was lifted from his chair by two huge mountains of men.    
They each gripped one arm, with a strength that felt like it could   
bend steel, and laugh at telephone directories.  He was taken to   
another room.  This room was brightly lit, with a metal table in   
the centre.  
  
The table had manacles attached to it.  He was manhandled into   
place, and manacles were snapped shut around his forehead,   
neck, wrists and ankles.  Then most of the lights in the room went   
out, leaving him lying on a table, in a pool of light.  Either they   
knew about him, or they were just trying to discomfort him with   
the light.  He fervently hoped it was the latter.  Either way, it was   
  
working.  He was already starting to sweat.  He heard the sound  
of the doors opening, and closing, and the sound of footsteps   
approaching, and the "Eeeerk, eeeerk, eeeerk" of something being   
wheeled toward him.  
  
A new voice spoke.  This voice was higher pitched, but probably   
still male.  "I have my orders.  The pain will continue as long as   
you refuse to answer our questions.  Now, before I begin, will   
you tell us what we want to know?"  
  
"I already told you mate back there, I don't even *know* the   
answers you're looking for."  
  
There was a snap as of a clasp fastening.  
  
"That is too bad, Mr. Jacobs" The voice was now muffled,   
slightly deeper sounding.  
  
Something was wheeled into his field of view.  It was a mirror,   
angled so that he could see himself lying there.  He could also see   
his current "companion".  The thing was wearing a strange rubber   
outfit, with oddly carved protuberances in places that there should   
have been nothing.  There was a gas mask like thing covering his   
face.  The light reflected dully from his outfit.  The whole   
spectacle looked repellent and non-human.  
  
  
The thing lifted one hand.  There was a glint of metal, as the light  
reflected off a small knife.  It lowered the knife toward his chest,   
and cut away his shirt.  There was the sound of fabric being   
slashed from further down as well.  Then his clothes were taken   
from him, and he lay on the table, naked.  
  
The thing vanished from view briefly, and then was back, holding   
a large metal band.  It reached over, and fastened this across his   
chest.  There was a wire leading from one end of the band to a   
box which rested in the thing's hand.  It twisted some sort of dial   
on the box.  Suddenly, hundreds of tiny pinpoints sprang from   
the inside of the band, resting against his skin, with just enough   
pressure to go beyond tickling, and into a stinging sensation.  
Then, they began to slowly extend further.  Matt felt them slowly,   
oh-so slowly, pierce his skin.  He gritted his teeth, refusing to   
scream.  They continued their agonising extension, until they   
must have been a good half inch deep.  The pain was   
excruciating.  
  
The thing pressed a button of some sort.  Suddenly, the band,   
and the needles began to heat up.  At first, they were merely   
warm.  Then they became uncomfortably hot.  Then, they started   
to burn.  He could feel his skin start to blister.  He screamed, long   
and loud.  
  
The band was removed, roughly.  The smell of his own burned   
flesh filled his nostrils.  The thing applied some kind of slave to   
the burned strip.  It's touch felt clammy and alien.  At first the   
salve was blessedly cooling, then it began to warm up.  Not   
enough to burn in it's own right, but enough to make his already   
burned flesh agonisingly painful once again.  He looked in the   
mirror above him, and wished he hadn't.  There was a strip along   
his chest that was truly hideous to look at.  Yellow, and red and   
black all blended sickeningly along his flesh.  
  
Then he felt his arm being gripped hard.  He could see the thing   
lowering a knife to his arm and slowly cut away a section of skin,   
exposing the red meat beneath.  Blood, dark crimson blood,   
dripped from it, but not much.  Then the thing was back, and   
pouring something into the area without skin.  A strange white   
liquid, that glowed slightly.  For whatever reason, his flesh   
seemed to be absorbing it. soaking it up.  It felt... like nothing.  
There was no longer any pain from that part of his arm.  Then   
the thing pressed a plate of heated metal against his arm,   
cauterising it.  *That* hurt.  He screamed again, then passed out   
into merciful darkness.  
  
When he came to, he was seated in the chair he had been sitting   
in earlier.  Either that or in one identical to it.  Once again, he was   
dressed, although the fabric of the clothes was harsh and new,   
and rubbed agonisingly against his seared flesh, although the pain   
seemed a great deal less than it should have been.  How long had   
he been out?  He had no idea.  The light was in his face once   
again.  
  
"Well, Mr Jacobs, perhaps now you have seen a sample of what   
  
we do to those who do not co-operate with us, you might be   
more willing to talk."  The same person he'd been speaking to   
before, once again seated opposite him.  He could even make out   
what seemed his coat and holster, still lying there on the table.  
  
"Oh, I was very impressed.  Do you always treat guests with such   
courtesy?"  
  
"Please, spare me the macho witticisms.  Now, the names of your   
employers, please."  
  
"Would you mind answering a few questions of mine first?  Or   
isn't that the way you deal with things?  Is it more fun to inflict   
pain?"  
  
"Hmmm.  Are you proposing to trade information of information?"  
  
"Depends on how much information you're willing to provide me   
with."  
  
"Very well.  Ask your questions."  
  
"Well, firstly, how long was I out?"  
  
"Several days.  We have healing techniques here that require you   
to be unconscious."  
  
"Wait a second.  You go all that trouble of inflicting damage, and   
then heal me?  Why?"  
  
"Is it not obvious?  The human body can only suffer so much.    
Easier to heal you first before we start again.  That is, assuming   
we need to start again.  Not only that, but should we release you,   
the lack of tangible damage will make it less likely that you'd be   
believed by anyone you told of your experiences."  
  
"Fair enough, I suppose.  So why am I still in pain?"  
  
"Phantom pain.  It will pass it a short while.  Now I think it is   
your turn to answer my questions."  
  
"Suppose I don't feel that you've given me enough information?"  
  
"Then you will, presumably, refuse to answer, and you will be   
taken for another little.... chat with my associates."  
  
"Fair point.  Well, for the moment I think I'll not answer anything.    
  
I can't anyway.  After all, if you're going to keep healing me, it's   
not as if I've got to worry about much beyond a bit of pain."  
  
As he spoke, Matt considered his options.  He couldn't "vanish"   
effectively, not with that light shining directly at him.  Which also   
  
meant he was effectively blind.  His senses were limited to what   
he could see and hear.  Sight was utterly fucked, courtesy of this   
  
sodding brightness.  So he listened hard.  Was that breathing he   
could make out in the shadows surrounding him?  He decided it   
was.  No-one who knew anything about him would be so foolish   
as to leave themselves alone in a room with him.  He couldn't give   
them the answers they wanted.  He didn't care to even think  
about the consequences if he did.  He should have know better   
than to get involved with Laura again.  The woman was nothing   
but trouble.  All of which left him one option.  
  
The mystery man was speaking again.  "...want to know, Mr.   
Jacobs.  You will tell us, sooner or later.  Eventually, everyone   
gives us what we want."  
  
"I already told you.  I don't know the information you require!"  
  
"Come now, to lie is the height of foolishness.  We will have our  
information.  We always do."  
  
"Lets just say that I've always been more than a little foolish, and   
leave it at that, shall we?"  
  
As he spoke, Matt tensed.  While his talkative friend drew in his   
breath, Matt flung himself backward, over the back of the chair.    
He wasn't out of the light, but it was better than it had been.  He   
wasn't happy about relinquishing control of his body, but he   
didn't have the raw power that was required, and if his life ended   
now, well, he'd rather not live (die?) with the consequences.  
  
Someone was moving toward him.  He took three swift steps to   
the side, into the full darkness, and released his control upon his   
body.  Immediately, the darkness engulfed him.  Not merely   
surrounded him, but it was inside him too.  Now, he was the   
darkness.  
  
The lamp was rapidly extinguished.  His coat and holster were   
upon the body (strange, at times like these, he stopped thinking of   
it as his body, it simply became *the* body) his crossbow had   
been throw into a corner.  It retrieved that, too.  
  
Suddenly, the man who had been opposite him spoke.  One   
word.  And that word was agony.  
  
"Lights"  
  
At once, the ceiling lights came on, flooding the room with a   
harsh, cold light.  He was forced back into control.  The power   
left him.  His body was racked with sudden pain.  He collapsed to   
the floor.  He made out three figures approaching him.  He   
forced himself to his feet.  His crossbow in hand, he backed of.    
He flicked a quick glance at the chair where his "friend" was.    
No-one was there.  Shit, now he'd have to deal with the Goon   
Squad here.  Then they were upon him.  Three large, man shaped  
figures.  But their auras read/felt wrong.  They were nearly   
human, but not quite.  
  
One of them swung a blow at him.  He tried to step back, but   
wasn't fast enough.  The blow sent him staggering.  His ribs felt   
bruised at the least. Still, he was now at a distance.  He squeezed   
the trigger.  A quarrel went flying, taking one of them through the   
shoulder, neatly slicing through the meat, and lodging with the tip   
brushing bone.  That was going to hurt, lots.  Good.  One down.  
  
The other two however, backed off.  What was going on here?    
He heard something move behind him.  A heel hit metal, hard.    
Someone else had stepped into the room.  He did the only thing   
he could, and bolted to the side, spinning slightly as he did.  
  
Matt's gaze fell upon the woman who had just entered the room.    
She was tall and athletic looking.  Her hair was cropped close to   
her head.  She was dressed in a tight fitting lycra body suit.  Her   
eyes were like mirrors, reflecting everything.  
  
Matt cursed inwardly.  If you knew how, you could read an   
opponent like a book by gazing into their eyes.  Evidently, she   
knew this, and had practised to prevent it, like he himself had.    
With a flicker of motion, she had a knife in her hand.  Matt was   
impressed.  He'd not seen where her hand went to get the knife   
from.  Judging from the contours of the suit, it had to be some-  
where on her back, as he could see nowhere on the front where it   
could have been stored.  
  
Suddenly, without a word, she lunged forward.  Matt back-  
pedalled rapidly, trying to keep ahead of the point of her knife.    
Suddenly, he threw his weight forward and to the side, trying to   
move around the knife.  It almost worked, but the pain he was   
suffering slowed him down.  The knife flickered to the side   
briefly, matching him, and he felt a line of white fire across  
his ribs.  He stumbled back, away from her.  
  
Another flicker of movement, and a knife was in her other hand.    
A flick of her wrist, and the steel was whistling through the air   
toward him.  He twisted fast, and it sailed past him.  He didn't   
bother following its line of flight.  That kind of sloppy mistake   
could easily get him killed.  His assailant was moving toward him   
again.  This time, he was ready.  He jumped forward, rolling in   
mid air, over her head.  Her knife moved to intercept him, but too   
late.  As he landed, he thrust an elbow backward and was   
rewarded by contact with the small of her back, and a brief grunt   
of pain from her.  
  
They both twisted to face each other.  It was then Matt realised   
his mistake.  His jump had put him easily inside her knife range,   
and his balance still wasn't totally recovered.  She lunged once   
more.  He couldn't hope to avoid the blow, but he raised his   
hand, and let her stab him through that, stopping the knife from   
reaching his heart as she'd intended.  
  
Matt screamed aloud, as the bones in his hand were crushed   
against each other, forced together by the intrusion of the knife.    
Suddenly, the woman screamed, matching him.  She fell to the   
floor, writhing in pain.  As she thrashed about, he saw that the   
back of her suit had been burned away, and the flesh beneath was   
burnt looking.  His hand dripping blood, he looked about.  
  
A figure stood in the doorway.  The man was of average height,   
wearing a rumpled looking suit, and a long dirty grey coat.  His   
black hair looked as if it hadn't been brushed in a couple of days.    
A cigarette was held casually in one hand.  He looked the picture   
of nonchalance.  
  
Matt grinned with relief, then passed out.  
  
He came to an undetermined time later.  It couldn't have been   
very much later, as he was still lying on the floor of the same   
room.  His rescuer was busy attempting to bandage his hand with   
some of his own shirt.  The smell of burned flesh filled the room.  
  
"You've ruined a perfectly good shirt, you know that?  30 quid,   
this cost me.  Honestly, if you're going to get yourself buggered,   
at least have the consideration to bring along bandages."  
  
Matt grinned weakly.  "Still the same old Pete, hey?"  
  
"Pretty much."  Wisdom's voice was perhaps just a little to tense,   
but Matt let it go for the moment.  How in the hell did you get   
into this mess?  And who were the goons I just hot knifed?"  
  
"I got involved with Laura again.  As to the Goons, I dunno.    
They wanted information, and I wasn't going to give it to them.    
I'll say this though.  They knew about my condition."  
  
"Jesus Matt!  If someone has you over a barrel like that, always   
spill the beans.  It saves a lot less hassle in the long run.  And it   
would have saved my bloody shirt and all."  
  
"This probably isn't the time or place for a discussion of business   
ethics-"  
  
"Bloody right there.  We're leaving,  You can justify yourself   
later."  
  
Pete helped Matt to his feet.  Almost immediately, a wave of   
nausea swept over him.  Before he knew it, he was on his knees,   
retching.  There was blood mixed in with the vomit.  
  
"OK mate, let's get out of here, and get you to a doctor."  Pete's   
voice was calm and reassuring.  Matt stumbled upright again,   
fighting off the dizziness and pain.  He faltered, and almost fell,   
but Pete was there to catch him.  
  
Leaving the building was like a bad fever dream for Matt.  His   
head was spinning, and his guts were churning.  Gravity seemed   
to be pulling from three different directions at once.  All he could   
do was lean on Pete.  
  
Pete was muttering something.  "I dunno, I come to London for a   
bit of a break, and a piss-up, and I get mixed up with whatever   
  
craziness you've got yourself involved in this time.  I'd rather deal   
with that Scots loony than this."  
  
  
\-----------------  
Pete Wisdom #2 - In which Pete finds out what's going on,  
or "I was *supposed* to be on Holiday!"  
  
[Disclaimer : Pete's a Marvel character, sorry Marvel.  John is a   
DC character, sorry DC.  Matt's a poor sod who got drafted for   
this story, sorry Matt.  This is only a bit of fun, and no challenge   
to those funny little (c)s or tms is intended.  So please don't sue   
me]  
\-------------------------------------------------------  
  
"I'm sorry Mr. Wisdom, but I can't find anything wrong.   
Nevertheless, your friend is going to die."  
  
Pete was sitting in the doctor's office.  The doctor had wanted to   
talk to him.  Pete had hoped the doctor had good news for him.    
After all, he'd got Matt out of there, hadn't he?  He'd saved him,   
surely?  Matt couldn't die now.  Could he?  Pete pulled himself   
together.  
  
"But, if there's nothing wrong, how can he be dying?"  
  
"I've examined him using every test I can think of.  I don't  
honestly think I've ever seen such a picture of health. Physically,   
there's nothing wrong with him at all.  Everything is working at   
peak efficiency.  However, you friend is manifesting an extreme   
allergic reaction. We've tested for allergies, and found none,   
we've put him in a controlled environment, but nothing seems to   
work."  
  
"So why do *I* need to know this?" asked Pete.  
  
"Well, we felt it would be easier if a friend of his broke the news   
to him."  
  
"What you mean is, you don't want to admit to him that you   
failed.  You haven't the balls to admit that for once, you've no   
idea what's wrong, and that it's going to cost him his life!"  Pete's   
  
tone was harsh, accusing. And why not?  One of his best mates   
was going to snuff it, and the bloody doctors couldn't help him,   
even after all Pete's work in rescuing him.  
  
"I think perhaps you'd better leave Mr. Wisdom.  You're   
obviously overwrought.  Oh, by the way, your friend is being   
discharged this afternoon.  We've come up with something that   
will ease his last few days, control the vomiting, but to keep him   
here is to waste our resources on a dead man."  
  
"The caring profession, eh?  Don't worry, I'll leave, and I'll take   
Matt with me."  Pete stood, collected his coat, and left.  He didn't   
bother to slam the door behind him.  
  
  
Pete made his way up to Matt's ward.  Matt was lying on a bed   
outside the ward.  
  
"Pete!  Alright!"  Matt exclaimed.  
  
"Not so bad.  How you feeling?"  
  
"Been better.  But the Docs got me some pills that seem to do the   
trick.  Me intestines have stopped trying to escape through me   
mouth, anyway.  They're letting me out this afternoon, they need   
the bed.  Cutbacks."  
  
"Right, well let's get your gear together and get the hell out of   
this   
place.  I want a cigarette, and there's no smoking signs, and nosey   
nurses everywhere in here." Pete forced himself to sound jovial.  
  
They left the building, and caught a cab back to Matt's East   
London flat.  They got into the flat, and Pete nipped down the   
road for a couple of packs of fags while Matt attempted to tidy up   
some of the mess.  The area was not particularly good one,   
buildings with boarded up windows were two a penny in this   
district.  Shiny plastic sacks full of rubbish lay in the street, some   
of them ripped by the teeth of whatever vermin prowled these   
streets after dark, their contents strewn nearby.  Even so, Pete   
needed the walk.  How the hell was he to break the news to Matt?    
"Sorry mate, you're dying and there's not a thing wrong with   
you"?  "Matt, I've got something to tell you.  You're going to   
snuff it, and the doctors are bloody useless"?  He couldn't think   
of any way.  
  
When he got back, he found Matt sitting in a chair, staring at the   
wall.  
  
"So, do want to tell me that bad news, or shall I tell you?"  Matt   
asked, without turning round.  
  
"You know?" asked Pete, surprised.  
  
"Of course I bloody do.  Not only that, I can guess why, which is   
more than the Docs'd be able to do.  I'm dying. And it's all   
because Laura talked me into doing that bloody job. I swore I'd   
not get involved with her again, not after last time left with a....   
a   
thing living in my head.  Still, I've only got myself to blame for   
this one.  I knew the Black Scythe were bad news, and I should   
have spilled the beans on Laura, but I couldn't bring myself to do   
it."  
  
"So, what now?"  Pete's voice was dead, devoid of emotion.  
  
The ability to turn off any outward show of emotions was a   
handy one, and it prevented Matt from guessing how upset he   
was.  Of course, if Matt turned around, he'd see the tears in Pete's   
eyes, but so far he seemed happy to stare at the wall.  
  
"Now, me old mate, I get desperate.  I figure I've got about four   
days absolute tops.  And I'm not really in any state to do anything   
anyway.  So I'm going to have to call on your help."  
  
"Me?  But I haven't the first clue about the kind of shit that you   
get yourself mixed up in.  Why me?"  
  
"Because you're convenient, and I haven't time to call anyone   
else.  And if anyone can pull my fat out of the fire, it's you."  
  
Pete flushed slightly at the compliment.  
  
"So what can I do?"  
  
"Well, the first move is to go and get someone who knows about   
this sort of shit.  Listen, there's a pub over Tottenham way, called   
the Northampton.  Nip round there, and ask for a bloke called   
Constantine.  If he's in the area, he'll be there.  Tell him I need   
his help."  
  
"Well, at least I'm going to get that pint I wanted."  (That's it keep   
up the jokes Pete, don't let him see what you're really feeling.)  
  
"Heh.  Right.  Now, get going, it's not like I have time to spare."  
  
Once he heard the door shut behind him, Matt turned around.   
Tear tracks were plainly visible on his face.  
  
\- - - -  
  
Pete caught another cab over to the pub.  Inside, the air was blue   
with a haze of cigarette smoke.  He lit one of his own, and   
headed over to the bar.  
  
"Pint of Best, cheers mate.  Oh, and I'm here looking for a bloke   
called Constantine.  You know him?"  
  
"Yeah, that's him over in the corner.  That's two quid."  
  
Pete paid up, and headed over for the corner booth the barman   
had indicated.  The bloke sitting there was alone.  He looked to   
be in his early thirties, with a shock of blond hair.  He reminded   
Pete a bit of Sting.  Constantine looked up as Pete approached.  
  
"You'd be John Constantine?"  
  
"Yeah.  Something I can do for you?"  
  
"I'm Pete Wisdom.  A mate of mine's gotten himself into some   
bother, and he reckoned you'd be able to help him out. Matt   
Jacobs, his name is.  You remember him?"  
  
"Yeah, I remember Matt.  Helped me out a time or two while the   
police were after me, after that bit of bother with the Pyramid   
  
boys.  Why, what's up?"  
  
"Dunno.  Apparently the two of you are into the same kind of   
stuff.  I'm just an old drinking mate of his.  He said you should   
come and see him."  Pete took a drink of his beer.  The only good   
thing about being stuck in bloody jockland was that you could get   
good scotch easily.  
  
"Apparently he'd got himself involved in something he shouldn't   
have.  The name Laura mean anything to you?  Or Black   
Scythe?"  
  
"Plenty.  If he's messing with them, you'd be best to get out now   
mate.  It only gets nastier from here on in."  
  
"I can deal with nasty.  And Matt's a mate."  
  
"Right enough.  Let's be off then."  Constantine finished his beer,   
and lit another cigarette.  
  
"I thought you said it'd be best not to get involved?"  
  
"No, I said it'd be best for you not to get involved. There's a   
difference."  
  
"I'm already in.  Either one of you fills me in, or you're going to   
have to deal with a loose cannon blundering about."  There was   
no way Pete was going to stand idly by and watch a mate die, no   
matter if he understood what was going on or not.  
  
"Come on then, lets go."  Constantine sighed.  "Bloody amateurs.    
And I had this look before any of you," he said noticing that Pete   
was wearing a trenchcoat almost identical to his own.  
  
\- - - -  
  
A short time later, their taxi pulled up outside Matt's flat.  Pete   
paid the cabbie, not bothering to check his change.  He knew   
from long experience that arguing with a London cabbie was an   
exercise in futility.  The two of them went inside.  
  
John took a long look around, taking in the damp slowly inching   
up the walls, the shit coloured sofa with holes in, orange stuffing   
protruding from some of them.  Matt didn't appear to have   
moved while Pete was away, except that the ashtray beside him   
was noticeably more full.  
  
"Nice place Matt.  Do the council pay to use it as a landfill site,   
or is this your idea of public service?"  
  
"John!  You heard I'm in trouble?"  
  
"Yeah, I heard.  And yes, you're up shit creek by the look of it.    
You appear to have added a minor spirit of light to the crap that's   
usually floating in your bloodstream.  Heh.  Most people would   
love one of those.  Typical of you to wind up with one really."  
  
"Spare me the crap, please.  Obviously, it doesn't like the dark   
spirit I wound up with last time I helped Laura out."  
  
"Damn right it doesn't.  And there's shit all I can do.  If they were   
demons, no sweat, we'd do a quick exorcism, then be off for a   
swift half down the Northampton.  Listen, I've a couple of things   
I want to check.  Mind if I use the phone?"  
  
"Go ahead.  If you can't help, it's not like I'm going to need to   
worry about the bill."  
  
"Excuse me," Pete cut in as John lifted the phone, "but would   
some-one mind explaining what all that hocus-pocus gibberish   
was about?"  
  
"It's fairly simple Pete," Matt answered. "Last time I worked for   
Laura, I wound up with a minor spirit of dark inside me.  Not   
possession.  That exorcist crap doesn't happen very often.  Nah,   
this thing just sort of sat about, and gave me a few advantages   
when I was in darkness.  Darkness itself isn't inherently good or   
bad, but it doesn't like light one bit.  Now, while I was caught   
back there, they dumped a spirit of light inside me.  The two are   
basically having a bit of a barney in me bod.  And unless John   
can pull the proverbial white furry thing from the hat, then I'm   
due to be popping me clogs within the next few days."  
  
"Clear as mud, mate.  But I'll take your word for it.  So, what can   
I do?"  
  
"You get to do all hard work."  John hung up.  "Well, there's bad   
news, and some other bad news.  Firstly, if there is any cure, the   
scythe lads have got it, and secondly, Laura's working for them.    
You were set up totally mate.  Apparently, Laura was one of the   
Pyramid of Prayer people, and didn't take too kindly to you   
helping me out.  What all this means is that Pete here is going to   
have to break in again, and see if he can't find something to sort   
you out."  
  
"Eh?  Why me?"  
  
"Because Matt's in no state to and I'm crap at all the macho  
stuff.  It shouldn't be too risky, just break in, find someone  
who looks like they've got two brain cells to rub together,  
since with the Black Scythe, two brain cells is a criminal  
mastermind, and get them to give them you a cure."  
  
"And if they don't?"  
  
"Then you get to avenge Matt, and we give him a really nice  
funeral."  
  
  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------  
This is a tale of violence, and this time I'm not being as graphic  
because right now I'm ill, and therefore being graphic will be bad  
for me.  Yes, Pete and John are copyright.  I'm terribly sorry, but  
right now I really don't care.  My head hurts, and anyway, it's not  
as if I'm making any money out of this.  Or taking away Marvel and DCs  
respective markets.  Just leave me alone, and let me die in peace, OK?  
  
\-----------------------------------------------------------  
Pete Wisdom #3 by Al (Anon)  
In which Pete gets to play hero, or "Smack! Crunch! OW!"  
Editor: Marysia  
\-----------------------------------------------------------  
  
Matt's room.  Matt sits in the same chair we last saw him in, with an  
ashtray that is dangerously close to overflowing to hand, and a half-empty  
bottle of whiskey to hand.  John is sprawled on the sofa, also with an  
ashtray to hand, and a couple of empty cans of beer lying on the floor  
nearby.  In his hand he holds another cylinder, a yellowy brown colour.   
His hand is obscuring the brand name of the beer.  
  
"S'this Wisdom bloke 'ny good then?" John asked.  
  
"Dam'good. 'F 'e can't help, no-one can.  Not tha' mattas 'nyway.  'F can't  
get cure soon, not going to make it for long 'nough f'r 'nother go.  Jus'  
hope there's nothin' nasty 'n there.  I c'n see 'im now..."  
  
\-----  
  
"Pete grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and got out of the cab a  
short distance from the industrial compound.  He paid the cabbie, and set  
off walking.  It was dusk, and the streetlights had come on spilling pools  
of orange light down onto the street below.  Pete stopped, leant against a  
lamp post, lit a smoke, and thought for a bit.  The frontal assault had  
worked last time, but that was because a lot of the people in there had  
been doing something else at the time.  Experiments, he guessed.  Still,  
there was no way he could pull off much besides a full frontal sneak-in.   
There was certainly no way he was going to be able to bluff his way in.  He  
wished he had Kitty along.  Getting into Dream Nails had been a breeze with  
her along.  Still, he'd been pulling this kind of caper for ten years and  
more. Shouldn't be too hard.  He hoped he wouldn't have to Hot Knife  
anyone.  Still, if it came to it, it was them or Matt.  
  
"He walked on, his shoes thudding slightly on the pavement beneath him, and  
arrived outside the building.  He hadn't really stopped to examine it the  
last time he'd been here, he'd been too concerned with getting Matt out of  
there. Now, he stopped and considered it carefully.   
  
"The building sprawled like an obscene cancer on the landscape.  Even in  
this ugly industrial area, it stood out as a repulsive example of man's  
ability to warp and twist the world.  Pete had always been a city man, but  
this disgusted him.  It looked totally wrong, even surrounded by other  
examples of its kind.  
  
"It was surrounded by a chain link fence, and there was a gap of some 60  
yards between the fence and the building itself.  The area was floodlit,  
and there were patrols of guards, with dogs who walked around the building.  
Pete exhaled smoke, and counted the minutes between one patrol moving out  
of sight, and a new one arriving.  He had about a 30 second interval.  Not  
really long enough, but it would serve.  First thing to arrange was a power  
cut.  He was sure the building had it's own generators, but with any luck,  
it'd buy him a little time without the floodlights.  
  
"He strolled on down the street, until he came to a green junction box.  A  
BT junction box, but he knew enough to use it to cause a power cut.  There  
were advantages to working for a secret governmental agency, after all.  
Like knowing about how the national grid *really* operated.  
  
"He reached into his bag, and produced a small box, with a couple of  
crocodile clips attached to wires protruding from it, and a digital timer  
on the front.  He set the timer for two minutes, and clipped the wires into  
place.  
  
"1:59 - Pete was running back the way he had come, reaching into his bag as  
he did so, and pulling a few small pellets out.  
  
"1:43 - Pete threw the pellets over the fence, arcing them as high as he  
could, for maximum distance, and maximum impact velocity.  At least one of  
them had to break when it hit the ground, or he was stitched.  Then he kept  
running.  
  
"1:16 - Pete stopped, and waited by the fence.  
  
"0:27 - The guards moved out of sight, and Pete began to scale the fence.   
It clinked and creaked a bit as he climbed, but these fences were so easy  
to climb they might as well have not been there (he thought of phasing  
through a similar one with Kitty, not long ago).  
  
"0:12 - Pete hit the ground on the far side, and started moving toward the  
wall of the building.  
  
"0:00 - Seconds before the next set of guards rounded the corner, all the  
lights died.  Pete slipped his hand into his bag, and produced a pair of  
night vision goggles. Now the advantage was his, he could see and they were  
blinded.  And the aniseed capsules he'd thrown should distract the dogs for  
a while.  
  
"He moved soundlessly through a green world, over to the wall, and round the  
building to a corner, avoiding the guards.  He slipped some climbing claws  
over his hands, and crampons over his feet, and started to climb,  
grateful that building was stone, not metal or glass.  
  
"As he reached the second floor, the lights started to come back on.  He  
rapidly de-activated his goggles, to prevent himself being blinded, and  
started to move crabwise along the side of the building.  Reaching a  
darkened window, he removed one of the few remaining items from his bag of  
tricks, a diamond tipped compass. He rapidly cut a circle in the glass,  
thanking whatever god watched over break-ins that it wasn't re-inforced  
glass, and praying that none of the guards would look up. He caught the  
circle before it fell, and reached an arm in to undo the latch.  Old  
buildings were always the easiest to get into.  
  
"He climbed in through the open window, shutting it behind him as he did,  
coming out of the cool night air and into a centrally heated room.  He  
quickly pulled off his climbing gear, and replaced it in his bag, along  
with the compass, and moved to the door, listening. Stillness, barring the  
commotion outside.  Even that was quieting down now.  He opened the door a  
crack, and peered out into a long hallway, with rather tacky orange carpet  
on the floor.  No-one to be seen.  He stepped out, and looked for some  
stairs.  They were at one end of the hallway, with a couple of lifts  
beside.  He called a lift, and sent it upward.  Then he headed down the  
stairs, pausing frequently to listen.  Still nothing.  
  
"Experience had taught him that in buildings such as this, anything the  
employers wanted to hide would either be on the top floor or underground.   
Given the kind of sickos he was dealing with, he was willing to bet that in  
this case, underground was the way to go.  He had rescued Matt from the  
Lower levels last time, but he'd been able to just cut he way down through  
the floors with Hot Knives, so he didn't know how access to them was  
arranged.  This time, he'd have to be sneakier.  
  
"On the first floor, he left the stairs, and called the other lift. Getting  
into this one, he sent it heading upward as well, a few floors.  As it  
rose, he worked on the floor, trying to find a panel he could lever up.  
Damn, nothing.  He concentrated, and a neat square of Hot Knives perforated  
the floor, leaving only a couple on inches on one side attached.  He  
levered it up, and climbed out as the lift came to a stop.  
  
"It was then he discovered the flaw in an otherwise excellent plan.  He was  
now dangling, hanging by his fingers over a drop of several stories.  Way  
to go Pete. He looked around, and saw a ladder hanging a couple of feet  
behind him.  Laboriously, he started to turn himself around, hanging by one  
hand of a brief second, then twisting, and replacing it.  As he replaced  
it, his other hand slipped, and he was left suspended by one arm over a  
void.  Oh, just fucking wonderful.  He willed himself strength, reminding  
his body that Matt was depending on it.  He swung back and forth on his arm  
a couple of times, to get up some momentum.  It hurt like buggery, but as  
he neared the ladder he released his grip, and flung himself into it.  As  
he started to fall, he lashed out with arms and legs, and gripped the  
ladder.  He came to a slamming halt, twisting his ankle as he did so.  
  
"Right arm, left leg gone.  Wonderful.  He reached into his back, and  
grabbed the couple of bottles of pills he had in there.  Painkillers, and  
caffeine pills.  He swallowed both, and started to climb down, noting as he  
did the commotion coming from the lift he'd sent all the way to the top  
floor.  He climbed down rapidly, reckoning he had about a minute, maybe two  
before they investigated the other lift, and found the hole in the floor.   
He climbed counting the floors as he did.  3,2,1,G,B, yes, here it was,  
Secret Sub level #1.  
  
"He braced himself, and attempted to part the doors. Damn, he wished he'd  
kept up with that weightlifting. Finally, he got them to part slightly,  
almost straining every muscle in his arms.  Thank god for Modern Science,  
and its little white pills.  
  
"Stepping out, he found himself in a long metal corridor. This wouldn't have  
  
bothered him, but the floor, ceiling and walls tilted at odd angles, like  
something out of the twilight zone.  Still, it wasn't anything he couldn't  
walk down.  
  
"He came to a door, and opened it, not bothering to be subtle.  The time for  
subtlety was past.  Inside  
  
"  "AGGGH!" the scream came from somewhere down the corridor.  Pete didn't  
stop to examine the room he'd just entered.  Instead, he took off at a dead  
run toward the scream, in defiance of all common sense, but in keeping  
with his natural reactions.  
  
"Reaching the door from behind which the scream had come, he lifted his leg,  
and kicked it in.  He nearly screamed in agony, even with the pain-killers,  
as his left foot sent lances of acid up his leg.  He hopped up and down for  
a second, then tried the handle.  
  
"Inside the room, a naked man was strapped to a strange wooden table, and  
bending over him was a thing in a gas mask, wearing a rubber suit that  
bulged out oddly.  It looked up.  
  
"And copped a Hot Knife straight in the ribs.  Ignoring the scream as it was  
thrown backwards, Pete moved over to the man.  He was covered in hundreds  
of tiny cuts, and there was a clear liquid coating his body.  Pete was just  
cutting the restraints that held the poor sod in place, when a sound from  
behind him made him spin about.  
  
"The torturer had pulled himself to his feet.  Pete kicked his legs out from  
under him, and put a Hot Knife through his leg.  
  
"  "OK, shit for brains, I'm not disposed to be too charitable toward you  
right now.  You torture people for a living for one, and for another thing,  
breaking in here hurt like blazes.  So if you'd like to keep breathing any  
time beyond the next few seconds, I suggest you answer one simple question:  
Where's the cure for what you did to my Mate?  Y'know, the one you poured  
the spirit of a lightbulb, or whatever it was, into?"  
  
"  "I will tell you nothing.  I have given an oath of silence.  To break it  
would be my death."  
  
"  "That's quite possibly true, but on the other hand, it's your death if  
you don't. And I'm a lot closer than anyone else."  To emphasise his point,  
Pete planted yet another Knife, this time into his hand.  
  
"  "Aagh! Very Well.  The cabinet over there.  Either the Dark flask of the  
White one.  Either will unbalance the struggle, and allow one side to win  
out before the other dies"  
  
"  "Thank you."  Pete kicked the slime in the head, knocking him cold.  He  
grabbed both flasks from the cabinet, since either would work, and he might  
as well give Matt the choice.  
  
"At that point several large thugs broke in.  Pete didn't even think, he  
simply sent a couple of Hot Knives at their legs.  Incapacitating, and very  
painful, but not fatal.  He didn't want to kill them if he could help it.  
He'd had enough of that.  
  
"He was about to leave when he remembered the bloke on the slab.  He turned  
to discover that he'd passed out. God, what could he do?  He couldn't get  
this guy and himself out without serious difficulty, and Matt was counting  
on him.  On the other hand, this guy needed help, and badly.  Had he the  
strength left in him to pull it off?  
  
"He sighed, and undid the man's bonds.  Then he draped the blokes arm across  
his own shoulders, and started half walking, half dragging the man toward  
the door.  Reaching the corridor, he saw yet more goons coming at him, and  
the ninja bimbo from last time as well.  Reaching within himself he drew on  
his last reserves, and sent a general blast of Knives hurtling down the  
hallway at them.  He was too tired to try and aim, and every extra knife he  
generated took a bit more out of him.  He saw them fall, hoped he hadn't  
killed any of them, and headed for the lift.  
  
(Back in Matt's flat)  
  
"S'e sh'ld b'back 'ny time now."  
  
"Y'reck'n?" John slurred.  
  
At that moment, there was a thump at the door.  John rose on unsteady feet,  
and went to answer it.  The door swung open, and Pete fell forward onto his  
face, John having removed the only thing that had been holding him up.  He  
was cut and bruised all over, and his suit had been utterly shredded.   
Pinned to his back was a note.  John picked it up and read it.  As he did  
so, the colour drained from his face.  
  
  
\---------------------  
X-Writers is a non-profit fan-fiction group using characters belonging to  
Marvel Comics (and in this case DC too) and some of our own just for the   
hell of it. Don't sue us, we're not all as twisted as Al :-)  
  
Pete Wisdom #4  
Writer: Al (Anon)  
Editor: Marysia  
  
In which a friend is mourned, a friend is gained, and  
Pete has to come to terms with an important lesson.  
  
(Writer's note - As with last issue, there are portions of  
speech which should be a drunken slur, but in the  
interests of readability, I've turned them into something  
understandable.)  
  
\---------------------------------------------------------  
  
A steady drizzle was falling again.  It was just light enough to make it  
possible to smoke, and Pete and John stood beside the grave with cigarettes  
in their mouths, the smoke wreathing around their heads briefly, before  
the drizzle yanked it away.  There had been no service, no other mourners.   
Neither of them knew how to get in touch with any of Matt's other friends,  
or even if he *had* any, and a church service would have been hypocritical  
at best.  
  
The rain dripped steadily from their trench coats as they stood  
  
contemplating the grave.  As one they turned and left the place, never  
speaking.  
  
\---  
  
It was about two weeks since Pete had returned, or rather, had *been*  
returned from his attempt to save Matt, just as Matt had finished telling  
John a rather fanciful tale of Pete's success, and most of the bruises  
had faded, and the cuts had all healed.  
  
Matt had been wrong.  Totally, utterly, and completely, wrong.  Pete had  
failed.  He couldn't remember much of what had happened to him.  He  
remembered breaking in to the building, much as Matt had described.  He  
remembered heading for the basement, much as Matt had said.  After that, he  
didn't remember anything, except that there had been darkness, demons,  
pain, and terrible mocking laughter, until he had come to in Matt's  
apartment, with John bending over him.  
  
John hadn't shown Pete the note that had been pinned to his back when he'd  
fallen through the door.  It was probably best that Pete never knew exactly  
what had happened to him.  
  
"Dear John and Matt,  
  
I hope this letter finds you well, John.  I have to say that I'm terribly  
disappointed in you both.  Did you not realise that sending someone like  
him was doomed to failure?  And if you were going to send a useless  
incompetent, could you not have sent someone female?  Had you done that, I  
could have had my pets reproducing, rather than simply relieving sexual  
tension, although we got a chance to try out some really inventive new  
ideas.  Still, I suppose expecting consideration from you two is  
pointless.  Expecting anything from you two is pointless, really.  
Obviously, your fool failed to get the cure you needed, Matt.  See you in  
hell, or something trite like that, that's what you say in these  
situations, isn't it? I wouldn't really know, I've never been a great one  
for the kind of crap you go in for.  I suppose you're wondering why I set  
you up?  Of course I'm not going to tell you, don't be stupid.  Still, I  
wanted to do it for my own reasons, and I did it.  I'd say I was sorry, but  
I'd be lying.  
  
John, consider yourself lucky it wasn't you I wanted dead.  One day  
perhaps, but not today.  If I were you, I'd just stay well away from the  
whole thing, and you might live a little longer.  But you never were very  
good at taking advice, were you?  
  
                         Laura."  
  
No, Pete definitely didn't need to know what he'd been through.  His vague  
recollections were bad enough, and he'd woken up every night for the past  
two weeks with nightmares.  He could never remember what he'd dreamed,  
but he was always terrified.  He'd taken to sleeping with the light on,  
something he hadn't done since he was a kid.  
  
\----  
  
Now Pete and John were down the pub.  It seemed like the appropriate place  
to be, to mourn a friend.  Better than some pissy little churchyard, that  
neither of them cared about.  
  
Pete sat in silence as John got the beers in.  He lit a cigarette, and took  
a long drag on it.  Better.  Not good, but better.  He had the horrible  
feeling that things would never be good again.  He'd fucked it up with  
Excalibur, he'd fucked it up with Matt, he'd let Matt down.  Wisdom, you  
worthless piece of shite, you let your mate down!  You've never failed a  
mate before, why did you fail Matt now?  Now, when it really counted!  
  
John returned, and Pete forced those thoughts away.  He wasn't going to  
crack.  Not now.  He took the pint gratefully, and downed half of it almost  
immediately. John was tactful enough to say nothing.  
  
John sipped his own pint, his eye's on Pete's face.  Pete had been almost  
totally silent since he found out that Matt had died.  Matt had been  
dead before Pete recovered, which was probably for the best.  But right  
now, John was worried about the young man sitting before him.  He'd been in  
a similar state before, and had spent long periods of time in an asylum,  
having the shit beaten out of him, and another time he'd become a homeless  
alky.  He wasn't going to let that happen to Pete.  
  
\----  
  
Closing time.  Pete had drunk like a man possessed all afternoon, anything  
to dull the pain.  He hadn't noticed that John had only had a couple.  He  
hadn't really noticed much beyond his personal pain.  
  
"'Night John.  See you around."  
  
"Yeah, take care, Pete."  
  
Pete walked off one way, John turned as if to go the other.  He gave Pete  
thirty seconds, then turned and followed him, as discreetly as possible.   
He only had to walk a short distance.  Pete had turned down an alley,  
and had fallen slumped against the wall, tears streaming down his face.  
  
"C'mon mate, let's get you indoors."  
  
Pete stared blankly up at John, tears still rolling down his face.  John  
shoved one arm around Pete, and pulled him to his feet.  
  
\----  
  
About half an hour later, they arrived back at John's flat.  John left Pete  
sitting on the sofa, and went and made coffee.  When he came back, Pete was  
no longer starting off blankly, but seemed to have collected himself a  
little.  Pete reached out and took one of the mugs, and poured a small  
amount of milk from the carton John had brought in into it.  He took a long  
swallow, letting the coffee flavour roll around his mouth, and the  
temperature sear his throat.  Anything to keep himself focused on the here  
and now.  John took a sip from his own mug.  They sat there in the quiet  
for a while.  John broke the silence first.  
  
"D'you want to talk about it?"  
  
"What good would that do?  Matt's dead.  No amount of talking is going to  
bring him back."  
  
John said nothing, he merely watched and waited.  Pete took another swallow  
of his coffee.  
  
"You're a know-it-all bastard, Constantine."  
  
"That'd be me.  Now, what is it about all this that's got to you so badly?   
It's not someone dying, is it?  Your line of work, you must've been to a  
lot of funerals."  
  
"No, it's not that.  It's...it's..."  Pete paused to wipe away incipient  
tears from his eyes.  He took a deep breath, and tried again.  
  
"I let him down.  He was counting on me, and I blew it.  You did your part.   
If I hadn't fucked my end of it up, he'd be alive now."  
  
"Pete, you did your best.  What more could you have done?  What you found  
in there was nothing like anything you've even seen before."  
  
Pete shuddered.  "I don't really remember much of that, you know that.  All  
I know is that I *should* have done more.  Should have fought harder.   
Something.  Anything."  
  
"Pete, mate, if you don't remember it, there's a damn good reason.  You've  
been through so much shite, you brain doesn't want to think about it.  Same  
thing happened to me once or twice.  If you can't remember it, then accept  
that it was something you couldn't handle."  
  
"But I *should* have been able to.  I've never let anyone down when they  
really needed me.  Why Matt?"   
  
"There are some things, old son, that mortal man was not meant to handle.   
If this is the first time you've ever been beaten..."  
  
"No, not like that.  I've been beaten before, but then it was only my neck  
on the line.  I can handle defeat, if that's what you're thinking.  But  
when my mates need me, I'm there.  I've never let anyone down like that!"  
  
John was slightly surprised.  The mirror to his own past was startling.   
Only for Pete it was going to be ten times worse, if he didn't get his head  
sorted out, and soon, if this was the first time he'd let someone down.  
Only this time, Pete had someone to turn to who'd been there.  
  
"Pete, stop a second and listen to me.  Forget what you've done.  Forget  
what happened.  Just listen.  I've been where you are now.  I'm bloody  
impressed that you've not folded up yet.  But you can't let yourself do  
that.  You fold up now, and the nightmare is only beginning."  
  
"How the fuck would you know?"  
  
John took a deep breath.  He'd never really talked about this with anyone.   
But he'd laid that ghost to rest, hadn't he?  Time to find out.  Pete  
needed help, and John hadn't met anyone he liked so much since Kit and  
Brendan.  He needed Pete as much as Pete needed him.  
  
Pete's eyes watched John's face, but his mind was elsewhere.  On a purely  
logical level, he knew that there was nothing he could have done.  But  
there was a pain in his gut that told him that it was his fault Matt was  
dead.  And it was hard to be so cold and rational about it.  He'd just lost  
a good friend, someone he had been able to turn to when it all got too  
much, when the Hard Man front became a bit much to hold up.  And since he'd  
buggered it up good and proper with Pryde, who could he turn to?  Then John  
had helped him, had managed to bring him back to reality, when he'd been  
slipping down into a black pit.  He could feel himself teetering on the  
brink of it still.  He knew he could stay out of it, by slapping the Hard  
Man exterior on again, but what would happen when that crumbled, as it  
always did.  John might well be his last hope.  
  
But didn't he deserve it?  He'd blown it!  He deserved to suffer.  Matt had  
died because of his failure.   
  
"How would I know?  Fifteen years ago, I was about the age you are now,  
when I blew it big time.  Up in Newcastle.  I wound up damning an innocent  
child to Hell."  
  
The words came out in a rush.  John tensed, waiting for the steel fist of  
guilt to punch him in the gut.  Nothing happened.  
  
"Jesus!  I think I see what you mean.  So what happened then?"  
  
"I went through hell.  Two years in Ravenscar Home for the Dangerously  
Deranged.  They beat the shit out of me every sodding night there, but the  
worst part of it was - I *didn't care*.  Thought I deserved it.  It's not  
the blowing it that really matters, Pete.  It never is.  It's blaming  
yourself.  It's telling yourself that you aren't worth a damn, because  
something happened to you that you had no control over.  Listen to me Pete,  
this may be the most important thing you'll ever hear.  And if you don't  
learn it quick, then it'll take you years to get yourself back together.   
Listen, a while back, I got some good advice, from a bloke named Matt.  He  
told me something.  He said 'Regrets aren't worth a bugger'.  And he was  
right."  
  
(John didn't mention that it was a different Matt.  Pete didn't need to  
know that.)  
  
No.  No, he didn't deserve to suffer.  John was right, he'd done his best.   
Maybe he should've done more, but how could he have?  Pete took a deep  
breath, and began to cry again.  
  
John breathed a sigh of relief.  Those weren't the tears of hysteria they  
had been before.  They weren't tears that presaged the death of sanity.   
They were tears of grief, tears of pain.  He let Pete cry himself out,  
while he went to make more coffee.  
  
When he came back, Pete was looking much more composed.   
  
"More coffee?"  
  
"Got nothing stronger?"  
  
"You sure you're up to it?  You've been putting it away all night."  
  
"That was anaesthetic.  This is for fun."  
  
John looked at Pete closely.  He seemed more sober than John would credit,  
but then he'd been through a lot this evening.  He'd probably burned a lot  
of it off by now.   
  
"Ah, fuck it.  Let's send Matt off properly."  
  
John nipped back to the kitchen, and returned with a bottle of Bushmills.   
He'd picked up the taste for it from Brendan and Kit.  He grabbed a couple  
of shot glasses, too.  
  
An hour or so later, both men were at that comfortably mellow stage, where  
you say things you might not otherwise say, but retain enough self control  
not to say anything you know you'll regret.  Pete chucked John the lighter,  
and spoke carefully.  
  
"John, thanks.  You hardly know me, but you helped me out."  
  
"No charge.  I needed to talk to someone about Newcastle.  You see, I  
recently sort of rescued the kid who I damned.  I've not said anything  
about it since, not even thought about it, because I didn't want to risk  
re-opening old wounds.  You got me to face up to myself as well."  
  
"You did what?  You let me think you were still going through hell over it,  
and you've rescued her?"  
  
"She still spent years in Hell.  I'm never going to forgive myself that one."  
  
"I suppose so.  Sorry, John.  But, listen, if you sorted the kid in the  
end, then we can sodding well sort this Laura out as well."  
  
"Pete, you don't want to go getting mixed up in all that again.  You  
probably don't want to remember what happened to you, and seeing her again  
might just bring the memories back."  
  
"You know what happened, don't you?"  
  
"Yeah, she left a rather insulting and graphic note pinned to you.  It was  
fairly clear about some of the things that happened."  
  
"Will you tell me?"  
  
"No.  Not now.  Maybe one day, but not now."  
  
Pete thought about it.  
  
"Fair enough.  I'm not sure I want to know, anyhow.  The bloody nightmares  
are bad enough when they're unclear, never mind if I knew what was going  
on.  Anyway, I still want to get this Laura back.  She killed Matt, and  
damn near did for me too."  
  
"Fair enough.  But let me handle it, OK?  I know more about this shit than  
you do."   
  
"I'll go along with that, as long as you promise to call me in when the  
times comes to finish her.  I want to be there, memory be damned."  
  
"Done!"  
  
A pair of hands clasped, and a friendship was sealed.  
  
"Now, pass me that bottle, will you?"  
  
Fin.  
  



	8. Excalibur #95

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team visit Loch Ness.

\-----------------------------------  
X-Writers is a non-profit fan-fiction group using characters that    
belong to Marvel Entertainments Group. We are not out to rule    
the world, despite what you may have heard. We are just nice,    
quiet people who do not have any form of nuclear weapon and    
even if they did would never, ever use them. Honestly.   
  
\------------------------------------------   
Excalibur #95 "Roamin' in the Gloamin'"   
by Marysia.   
\------------------------------------------   
   
"So, is everyone ready?" asked Nightcrawler.   
   
Brian stood alone, on crutches, in the room in front of him.    
"Ready for what?"   
   
"Ready to go?"   
   
"Of course... go where?"   
   
Kurt looked exasperated. "What do you mean where? Where we    
planned to go last week, Loch Ness."   
   
"We planned this?"   
   
"Well you weren't exactly there at the time it is true..."   
   
A voice echoed through the room. "Hurry up Kurt, let's go."   
   
"See, Amanda is waiting."   
   
Meggan chose this moment to enter the room. "Kurt! What are    
you doing here?"   
   
"This is ridiculous," he muttered. "We are supposed to be going    
on a trip," he informed her. "To Loch Ness."   
   
"We are?"   
   
"Ja."   
   
"Well we can't possibly go. Brian is much to ill."   
   
"I am not."   
   
"Oh yes you are."   
   
"Oh no I'm not."   
   
"Oh..."   
   
"Enough!"  They stared at Kurt in surprise. "I get the idea.    
Where is Rahne? It was her idea after all."   
   
"Upstairs, I think."   
   
He vanished in a puff of brimstone.   
   
\- - - -   
   
Kitty, for that was how she still thought of herself despite what    
she insisted to the others, lay on her back on the bed and kicked    
at the headboard. Every now and then she would  kick it hard    
enough to knock a bit more plaster out the growing hole in her    
wall behind it. Then she would stop for a bit, until she could no    
longer hear the hiss of the grains running down the back of the    
bed, and start again.   
   
Ship hadn't found Peter. But the really annoying thing about it, if    
you were being strictly selfish that is, was that every time she    
tried to recall Peter, tried to be suitably upset about the whole    
situation, the similarity in names caused her traitorous brain to    
remind her of Pete Wisdom instead. Here she was; probably    
guilty of manslaughter, at the very least, of one of her oldest    
friends and she couldn't stop thinking about _him_.   
   
"Wanker," she said aloud experimentally. It just didn't sound    
right, she couldn't seem to get the right feeling into it and for    
some reason tears were coming to her eyes. "Wanker," she said    
again. Then, punctuated with hefty kicks to the scuffed    
headboard, "Wanker! Bloody, self-assured, slimy, English,    
bloody wanker!" Then she burst into tears and rolled over onto    
her side in a vague approximation of a foetal position. "Bastard,"    
she whispered.   
   
\- - - -   
   
Kurt looked worriedly at the creaking wall that separated    
Rahne's room from Kitty's. "Are you sure she is all right?"   
   
Rahne pulled on a warm jacket. "Oh aye. She's bin like that fur    
weeks. Ah think she's goin' through a phase or somethin', ye ken?"   
   
He studied her for a moment to see if the pun was intentional or    
not but she seemed serious, "So you don't think she will be    
joining us?"   
   
"Nah. Tis just me an' Doug. Oh, an' Dr Doom an' Miss   
Maximoff  an' all."   
   
"Doom! You are kidding me."   
   
"No. He's bin workin' wi' Lady Moira an' so ah asked him if he    
wanted tae come. It's awright is it no?"   
   
"Well... I suppose it can't do any harm. I hope."   
   
When they came downstairs Doom, Wanda and Douglock were    
all ready and waiting. Kurt shook his head with a worried air.    
"All right then, let's go."   
   
\- - - -   
   
Moira knocked warily on Kitty's door. "Ki... Kate? Are ye there?"   
   
"What is it?"   
   
"I... ah... wiz just wonderin' if ye could gi' me a hand doon in th' lab."   
   
"I'm busy."   
   
"Doin' whit, kickin' hauls in that wa'?"   
   
"Go away!"   
   
"Don't ye talk tae me like that Katherine Pryde or so help me    
ah'll tak ye over mah knee, you just see if ah dinnae!"   
   
"You and who's army?"   
   
"Ye know whit? Ah huv had enough o' you an' yer moods. If ah    
thought it wiz over whit happened wi' Colossus ah'd let it go, but    
ye've bin like this fur weeks an' ah'm no standin' fur it. Ah refuse    
tae have somewan pinin' away fur the sake o' that bloody    
Englishman. Ye hear me? Do ye?"   
   
There was no answer.   
   
Moira thumped the door with her fist in annoyance and stamped    
back down the stairs muttering, "Ah'll give ye Kate, ye bloody    
teenager. Ah ought tae kick ye oot fur aw the good ye've bin    
aroond here since that damned Sassenach left. Ah keep sayin',    
'the English are no t'be trusted', but does anywan listen? Never.    
Ah'd bi as weel talkin' tae a brick wa'. An' tae add insult tae    
injury they expect me tae work wi' that mad-mun Doom! Ah    
only jus' got rid a one mad lab assistant an' they saddle me wi'    
another bloody wan. Ah swear tae God if a turned mah back fur    
wan minute he'd hae all yon pris'ners infected wi' the virus jus'    
so we cud see whit happened. God but ah need a stiff drink... or    
two. Ah hope he bloody droons in that loch so ah do."   
   
\- - - -   
   
Nightcrawler pulled the jeep into the car park by the ruined    
castle that jutted over Loch Ness. It had been an... interesting    
journey. Doom and Wanda had been silent despite Amanda's    
half-hearted attempts to make conversation and if he knew her,    
and he did, she couldn't wait to get away from the two of them.    
Rahne had prattled on to everyone, pointing out sights she knew    
on the drive south-east across the Highlands. Kurt was really    
wishing he had forgotten they had arranged to do this. He had    
met Doom before the recent events of course, last time their   
paths had crossed he had tried to suck the United Kingdom into   
Limbo to get hold of some metal called Promethium. It had taken   
Excalibur and the Avengers together to stop him. The   
Avengers... after the destruction in the Savage Land there were   
few left of that once proud team. So many dead. And of course   
closer friends than that; Peter, Rogue, Jean, Magneto even. It   
was truly a dark period of their history and best forgotten, if only   
it could be. He parked the jeep and got out silently, in his   
brooding he scarcely remembered the others were there. So   
much destruction. Was it too much to hope that perhaps they   
were finally free of the Shadow King? Why was it that the good   
ones died but the bad ones just kept coming back? He shook   
himself out of his slump. After all sometimes the good guys came   
back too, X-Men had died before and returned none the worse   
for wear. And besides, it was over. He was alive, the rest of his   
team was alive, he ought to be more positive.   
   
Amanda broke his silence, "Why don't you show Dr Doom and    
Wanda the castle, Kurt, and I'll take the children down to the    
water."   
  
"Ah'm no a bairn!" Rahne noted angrily.  
   
"I'm not...." he paused. Perhaps getting Amanda away from    
Doom before her dislike became too obvious was a good idea.    
She wasn't always the most diplomatic of people after all. "All    
right then."   
   
"Come on then, let's go," said Rahne, heading down the hill to   
the loch side.  
  
"I'll bring them back to the car in an hour and we'll head over to   
the visitors centre," Amanda told him as she started after them.  
  
"Wait a minute." He took her arm and lowered his voice. "What   
do you mean the visitor's centre? We can't take Douglock or   
Doom there, or me for that matter. I thought we were just going   
to look for monsters or haggis or something."  
  
"Don't worry so much Kurt. It'll be fine. No-one will recognise   
Doom without his suit. As for you, Excalibur are pretty well   
known aren't they. I hardly think you're going to be lynched."  
  
Kurt sighed. "Ja, whatever you say Amanda." He smiled, "But   
if I do get lynched I shall hold you entirely responsible for it."  
  
"Fine. I'll see you later then." She kissed him and headed off   
after Rahne and Douglock.  
  
He turned back to Doom and Wanda. What on earth was he   
supposed to do with them. They looked at him expectantly.   
Wonderful, he thought, reduced from a super-hero to a tour   
guide in one fell swoop. With a sigh he gestured for them to   
move closer to the picturesque castle.  
  
\- - - -  
  
By the time Amanda had picked her way down to the rocky   
shore line Rahne and Douglock were nowhere to be seen. Oh   
well, she thought, I never claimed to be in shape. I'm a sorceress,   
I don't need to be fit. She did feel a slight trace of guilt, though,   
at her tendency to use magic as a form of liposuction. Not that   
she really needed it or anything, I mean it was just fine-tuning.   
But still, it wasn't exactly the done thing. Her mother would not   
have been impressed. Damn, there went her good mood. She sat   
down on a rock and stared out across the white-topped waves of   
the loch.  
  
She hadn't the faintest idea where her mother was anymore. Ever   
since she had taken (oh all right, been given) possession of   
Magik's soulsword she had been untraceable. Amanda had felt   
the ripples in the balance of magical power almost immediately   
after her mother had departed. Had known what had happened.   
But by that time it was too late, it had been too late from the   
moment her mother had taken the sword. She had heard nothing   
since, had no knowledge of what she intended to do. It was too   
much to hope that she would not use the power gifted to her.   
Sooner or later Amanda would have to do something, but as of   
today she had not even told Kurt or Shadowcat what had   
happened. For Goddess sake, she was a stewardess not an X-  
Man. She shouldn't have to worry about stuff like this.   
  
"Ev'rywan must worry aboot stuff like this Amanda," came a   
voice.  
  
She started in surprise and turned to her left. From the loch   
surface projected a woman's torso, but the water was too   
shallow for her legs to be present. She wore an off-white dress   
and a blue-green tartan wrap. She continued to rise out the   
water, strangely dry looking, and finally took a seat on a rock a   
few feet off-shore. Amanda found her tongue, "You're not the   
Lady of the Lake."  
  
"Ye dinnae say. Ah'm her sister, she cannae do ev'rythin' ye ken."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Is that all ye've got tae say fur yerself?"  
  
"Well what do you expect me to say? 'All hail, mighty Lady of   
the Loch, what is your wish?'" she asked sarcastically.  
  
"Well," the Lady answered thoughtfully. "It wid be nice fur a   
wee change. But ah wiz thinkin' o' somethin' more long th' lines   
o', 'Ah apologise fur gi'in' the soul sword tae mah power-crazed   
mither an' ah'll jist go an' fix it aw right noo.'"  
  
"The soulsword, what's that got to do with you?"  
  
"It's a sword, it's in Britain, it's mah problem. An' yours too.   
Bloody do somethin' aboot it. After aw, it is your fault."  
  
"She's in Britain?"  
  
"Well most a' the time. It's no like it's that easy tae keep track o'   
her ye know. So whit are ye goin' tae do?"  
  
"Me? What can I do? She's always been more powerful than me   
and now she's got the sword..." Amanda trailed off. It would be   
like a gnat attacking an elephant.  
  
"Aye, but all the midgie has tae do is bite a tender place, luv,"   
the Lady of the Loch pointed out. "Ah'll be goin' now. Ye might   
want tae catch up wi' them bairns. They're up tae no good ah   
expect. That's kids fur ye." She slid back into the water with a   
small ripple and was gone. A few bays down there was a scream   
of birds as a flock of seagulls were disturbed. Amanda stood up   
and headed over there.  
  
\- - - -   
  
Brian sat on a deck chair, smothered in blankets against the cold.   
He felt like an old man. Exodus had made quite a mess of him   
but between Ship and Moira he was healing fast. However he   
was under strict orders not to do anything too strenuous after   
he'd twisted his ankle falling on the stairs a couple of days ago.   
He'd fallen because he'd been on his feet all day trying to help   
Moira and his body had decided enough was enough. At least it   
had decided that half way down the stairs and not at the top. He   
was outside watching Meggan doing things to the garden. The   
wind was giving him a headache if truth be told. But if Meggan   
wanted him to see what she was doing then he'd damn well   
watch. She was planting heather, it was very... interesting.   
Really it was. So interesting that he was spending a good deal   
more time watching the way her shorts stretched over her ass   
than he was watching anything else. Well, he needed something   
to take his mind off his headache. He really ought to go back   
inside where it was warm. But he was trying to figure out how to   
ask Meggan something. I mean it shouldn't be that hard, in a   
way they were already engaged. But so many things had   
happened since he last asked her that he didn't really think it   
counted anymore. He'd got a new ring and everything, the box   
was in his pocket. He'd been carrying it round since he got it,   
waiting for just the right moment. When he had a headache   
definitely wasn't the right moment, maybe after dinner.  
  
\- - - -  
  
"So they are still unsure if this Loch Ness Monster even exists?"   
asked Doug.  
  
"Aye, but ah bet it does though. Ah bet it's a dinosaur from ages   
ago. A... plieosaur or something like that."  
  
"Plesiosaur," stated Douglock. "Order Plesiosauria, Superorder   
Sauropterygia, Subclass Diapsida, Class Reptilia. Predatory   
marine reptile that became extinct 65 million years ago at the   
end of the Mesozoic period. It is not a dinosaur."  
  
"Well, them ones anyway."  
  
"I thought there were pictures of the creature at the visitors   
centre, do they not prove it exists?"  
  
"Well, they're no very good pictures."  
  
"I see, I would very much like to know if this creature exists. I   
shall go and look." With that he transformed into a submarine   
type form and vanished under the water.  
  
"Doug?" Rahne sat down on a rock to wait, flipping stones into   
the water.  
  
\- - - -  
  
Amanda crouched out of sight with a mischievous look on her   
face. It was just too good, she couldn't be expected not to do it.   
It would have to be a good one, though, if it were to fool   
Rahne's enhanced senses. she summoned up her powers and   
began to create an illusion.  
  
\- - - -  
  
Rahne was just getting bored enough to think about going to   
look for some of the others when she spotted a disturbance in the   
water coming closer to shore. Expecting it to be Douglock she   
stood up and went over to the waters edge. Then a small   
reptilian head rose from the water and fixed her with a beady   
stare. Her jaw dropped in amazement and she took a step back.   
The head vanished and then an entire body burst out of the water   
in a dolphin like leap and vanished again. Rahne sat down hard   
on a rock that wasn't there. Hidden from sight, Amanda stuffed   
her jacket in her mouth to muffle her laughter.  
  
A few minutes later Douglock reappeared from the water.  
  
"Did ye see it?" asked Rahne breathlessly.  
  
"I could not find anything, but the loch is very deep and I cannot   
cover it all at once."  
  
"But it wiz here, right here. Ye must hae seen it."  
  
"You saw the monster? Was it a plesiosaur?"  
  
"Well how should I know? Ah dinnae ken whit a plesiosaur   
looks like, do ah."  
  
"Well what did it look like?"  
  
"It had a wee tiny wee head an' a big long neck an' it jumped   
right oot o' the water over there." She pointed.  
  
"It certainly sounds like a plesiosaur," Douglock decided. "This   
is most exciting."  
  
"Ye don't look verra excited."  
  
"We must go and tell the others what you saw."  
  
"Awright then."  
  
They headed back to the car and Amanda quickly teleported   
away before they bumped into her.  
  
\- - - -  
  
They were half way through dinner in front of the telly when   
Brian decided there was no such thing as a good time. It was as   
if inspiration had struck. He was going to do it, he was just   
bloody going to do it... right now.  
  
He put his plate on the table and dropped awkwardly to his knees   
on the carpet.  
  
"Meggan... will you marry me?" he blurted out.  
  
Her jaw and her plate dropped simultaneously and a heap of hot   
beef stew landed on Brian.  
  
"Oh... oh I'm sorry. I'll get a cloth."  
  
"No!" he grabbed her arm. "Answer me... please." The beef   
began to drip down onto the carpet.  
  
She couldn't help herself, she began to smirk... then a giggle   
escaped... and finally she collapsed into hysterics.  
  
"Meggan!" he said, exasperated.  
  
"Yes," she gasped. "Yes, I'll marry you."  She rolled off the sofa   
knocking him over and getting beef stew over herself as well.   
They kissed through their laughter.  
  
\- - - -  
  
The monster hunters didn't arrive back until nearly 9pm. Rahne   
had been full of stories of the dinosaur all the way. They had   
taken down what she said at the visitors centre for their records.   
Doom remained disbelievingly silent but Wanda went along with   
it and let Rahne describe the monster again and again.  
  
Kurt and Amanda dropped them off at Muir but were stopped by   
Brian before they could head home and he gathered them all into   
the living room to make the announcement.  
  
"I wanted you all to be the first to know that Meggan and I are   
going to get married this spring."   
  
There was a round of applause and congratulations at the happy   
news. A ray of sunshine to scare away the previous darkness of   
the Shadow King.   
  



	9. X-Men Unlimited #11 "Spirit Move"

X-Writers is a non-profit e-mail fan-fiction group using characters that  
belong to Marvel Entertainment's and DC Comics. We do not have permission  
to use these characters. We do not mean any harm, we come in peace,  
take us to your leader.  
  
This occurs between Excalibur #95 and #96 and after the Wisdom LS.  
  
\------------------------------------------------------  
X-Men Unlimited #11  "Spirit Move"  
Written by Al (Anon) and Marysia  
Edited by Marysia  
\------------------------------------------------------  
  
[Prologue]  
  
Dawn broke, sending pure light rolling across the  
fields on the Scottish/ English border.  It revealed a  
young Scottish girl out walking, a rucksack on her  
back and a carry-all in her hand.  She had no idea how  
long she'd been walking, or even why.  All she knew  
was that walk she must, until she reached the border.  
What was to happen there was unclear, but the voices  
in her head told her it would be important.  
  
The voices had begun about 2 weeks back.  At first,  
Catherine was able to shut them out.  As time passed,  
they became more insistent that she make this journey.  
In the end, despite her resistance, despite the fact  
that she knew she ought to be at work, she had packed,  
zombie-like and set off.  Now she was almost at the  
border.  
  
  
[London - A beginning.  Or perhaps an ending.]  
  
Dirty yellow light filtered into the room, spilling  
across the bed.  The sole occupant of the bed stirred  
slightly, and pulled the covers over its head.  The  
clock by the bed read 8:30 am, it's red digits no  
longer casting any significant amount of light with  
the coming of the sun.  
  
Now, the clock read 10:00 am, and sounds of coughing  
could be heard from under the covers.  A hand emerged,  
trailing an arm.  The hand felt around on the smooth  
surface beside the bed, until it found a small box,  
and a plastic cylinder.  Then a head emerged, topped  
by a shock of blonde hair.  It coughed again.  
  
John lit his first cigarette of the day, and took a  
long drag, feeling the smoke settle in his lungs.  He  
reached out his other hand, and picked up the TV  
remote control.  The TV came on filling the room.  
  
"And the weather in the sou..... [blare of trumpets] We  
interrupt this program for an important news flash.  
Thousands are feared drowned after..... after.....  
This is a wind up, right?  This has to be a joke."  
The usually calm broad-caster, the epitome of  
unflappability, even at breakfast time, had gone pale.  
  
"It's not a joke?  You're sure?"  
  
"Ahem.  Thousands are feared drowned after a five mile  
strip of northernmost England sank into the sea.  
Geologists are at a loss to explain how the land, a  
strip five miles wide, running parallel with the  
Scottish border could simply have sunk into the sea.  
A rescue operation is being mounted, but hopes are slim."  
  
John was already out of bed, dressed, and packing a  
suitcase, while the bloke on the TV talked on.  Some  
kind of interview with a geologist at the scene.  
  
"....est reports available, at sometime around 7 this  
morning the land simply sank.  There was no specific  
quake, or shifting of tectonic plates, as there is no  
fault line there and we could discern no epicentre,  
the land simply sank.  One minute it was there, the  
next a bloody great whack of sea water was rushing in  
to fill in the gap.  We've got no clue what has  
happened, and frankly, we were hoping you clever  
buggers at the Beeb might be able to come up with  
something.  This area's usually very tectonically  
stable.  Anyway, none of our recording centres could  
register anything other than a smoothly distributed  
rumble."  
  
The poor sod looked a little wild about the eyes.  
John wasn't surprised.  
  
  
[Sometime later, John is on the phone]  
  
"Look, just come and pick me up will you?  I need to  
get up to Scotland, so I need you to get me to the  
airport."  
  
"Yeah, probably.  I reckon I'd better check it out  
anyway. "  
  
"Oh, easy.  Evidently they've got a new bloke in  
William Hill who'd not heard about me yet."  
  
\- - - -  
  
Chas' cab smelled like it always did, a combination of  
stale cigarette smoke, which didn't bother John, who  
was lighting up anyway, and last night's puke, which did.  
  
"So how's her indoors then?  Calmed down any?"  
  
"You must be bleeding joking!  You didn't need to go  
prowlin' around in the back garden like that!"  
  
"Sorry about that.  I didn't know she'd be out there."  
  
"You could have rung and let me know you were comin' "  
  
"No time."  
  
"There never is with you, is there?"  
  
"Look, Chas, I don't need this.  Three hundred and  
fifty square miles of prime countryside has just sunk  
without any reason and the whole thing smells worse  
that your week old socks.  The fact that I nearly saw  
your Missus in the altogether is not something I need  
to be reminded of.  I'm still having nightmares.  What  
was she doing out there like that in January anyway?  
It was bloody cold that day, I know."  
  
"Oh, she'd seen some shite on the Telly, about Chinky  
exercise early in the morning.  Apparently it works  
better with nothing on."  
  
"Sounds like a right load of old bollocks.  All the  
Orientals I've seen do Tai Chi practice with their  
clothes on.  Leave it to the English to bugger up a  
perfectly good meditation tool, just because some smug  
bugger on Anne and Nick said that frostbite was good  
for you."  
  
"Here we are, Heathrow Airport.  Cheers John.  See you  
down the Northampton when you get back?"  
  
"Yeah, see you."  
  
John got out of the cab, retrieved his suitcase from  
the back and headed in, putting his cigarette out as  
he did.  Bloody airports.  
  
  
[Muir Island: early morning ]  
  
Excalibur didn't get the courtesy of finding out after  
they chose to wake.  At 7.26am alarms blared through  
the old house rousing those who were still in bed.  
The emergency services had called in everyone they  
thought could help and that included them.  
  
They staggered into the actual research station ten  
minutes later.  Moira, who had been there all night,  
had answered the call.  She looked haggard, but not  
from the news.  "There's bin some sort o' disaster  
doon south," she told them.  Her voice was lethargic.  
"Th' police want ye tae go help.  Somethin' `bout land  
sinkin' round th' border.  They'll be somewan tae meet  
ye in Gretna Green."  
  
"Land sinking?" inquired Kurt.  
  
"Who cares," grumped Kitty.  "Let's just go."  She'd  
been having a really good dream about Pete, not that  
she'd admit that to anyone.  
  
"Ah didnae ask whit it wis all aboot, ah jist took the  
message.  Ah have tae get back tae the lab, ah left  
Doom wi' Unuscione an' God only knows whit he's  
doin'."  She vanished back downstairs.  
  
With a shrug and a worried look Kurt, who had  
teleported in, led the team to the hanger.  Whether  
his look pertained to where they were headed, Moira's  
health or what Doom might be up to was anyone's guess.  
Brian hung back a moment.  He was wanting to get out  
of the super-heroing a bit, but if people needed help  
it wasn't as if he had anything better to do.  He  
couldn't even help Moira much, his training was in  
nuclear physics not medicine or genetics.  He followed  
Kurt, Meggan, Kitty, Douglock and Rahne.  
  
  
[Glasgow Central Station]  
  
The plane had touched down an hour or so ago.  John  
was now standing in the Station, waiting for a train  
to Gretna Green, which had suddenly become even more  
of a coastal town than it had been previously.  He  
considered buying some food on the train, then  
realised that even his win on the horses wasn't going  
to get him anything edible on the train.  He settled  
for buying a Mars Bar, a Coke, and a pack of Silk Cut  
at a convenience in the station, and lit up.  Just as  
he did, the train arrived.  Bloody typical really.  He  
ground his cigarette under his heel, and climbed  
aboard.  
  
  
[Gretna Green: near sunset]  
  
John left his case up in his room in one of the town's  
many hotels, and went for a walk, to see the lie of  
the land, as it were.  It wasn't quite what he'd  
expected.  One side of the town had pleasant beaches,  
two others had countryside.  The final side had a  
smooth, sheer cliff, utterly climbable without some  
serious equipment, that stretched off to the east as  
far as the eye could see.  John would have bet that  
the entire (rather sudden) south coast of Scotland was  
the same.  
  
There was a brisk breeze coming in off the sea,  
ruffling his hair and tugging at his coat.  John  
inhaled, smelling the salt tang of the sea, the smell  
of smoke from coal fires, and the unmistakable scent  
of cow dung.  He'd not been sure what to expect, but  
this wasn't it.  He'd expected powerful occult forces,  
or something like that, not business as usual.  In  
fact the whole place felt.... happy, for want of a  
better word.  It was as if the land was in good  
spirits.  Obviously, the people of the town were less  
than cheerful, given that their major source of income  
had just been removed, but the land itself felt cheery.  
  
Sparking up, he concluded that something was  
definitely up.  
  
  
[Gretna Green: that morning ]  
  
Excalibur arrived to a scene of chaos.  There was a  
scar ripped across the land and rock strata that had  
lain hidden for millions of years were bared to the  
elements along a five mile wide channel of writhing  
sea water.  Helicopters swarmed over the area.  The  
team stared, open-mouthed, as Brian over-flew the area  
quickly.  
  
"It's pretty deep," he noted.  
  
Kurt shook his head, "I doubt there will be many  
survivors here to rescue.  When the sea came crashing  
in it will have killed most people instantly. Were  
there... any major towns in the area?"  
  
Kitty studied a map, "The outskirts of Carlisle on the  
west coast and Berwick on Tweed in the east.  The rest  
was pretty empty."  
  
"We should head back west to Carlisle," decided Kurt.  
"If it only hit part of it we can probably be of most  
help there."  
  
As they sped back west they watched in amazement as  
rivers emptied themselves off the lowering cliff face  
in rainbowed sprays.  It was a beautiful, awe  
inspiring and terrifying site.  For what could have  
caused such mass devastation with so few consequences  
to the land on either side?  A line that followed the  
border of Scotland so closely it could only be  
purposeful.  Of course Scotland would not escape  
physical damage, nature would not allow such a perfect  
90 degree cliff to stand for long.  Erosion would push  
it back and wear it down until in a million years time  
smooth beaches lay along this coast.  As if Scotland  
and England had never been one.  
  
They came in site of Carlisle, lying on lower land and  
so closer to the crashing waves of what would come to  
be known as "Wallaces' Revenge" by many of the Scots  
and simply the "Scottish Channel" by the rest of the  
world.  
  
  
[John's hotel room]  
  
John studied the OS map of the border area he'd bought  
from the newsagent down the road.  There'd have to be  
some major changes made to it, and soon.  Still, it  
would probably serve.  He'd never been much good at  
direct divination magic, preferring instead to simply  
keep his eyes and ears open, but in the absence of any  
other ideas, he'd give it a try.  
  
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and relaxed,  
emptying his mind of everything but the desire for  
knowledge.  Then, slowly, so as not to disturb his  
relaxed state, he raised one hand, and brought the tip  
of his index finger down on the map.  
  
He opened his eyes.  His finger rested very near the  
border (cliff) on an otherwise unremarkable area near  
the small town of Coldstream.  Typical.  Right the way  
on the other side of the country.  Time to get some  
sleep.  He'd set off in the morning.  
  
  
[Midday, the following day]  
  
John paid the driver, and looked around as the cab  
drove off.  This was the place all right.  This close,  
he could feel the power in the air.  Again, not the  
magic he'd been expecting, but power, nonetheless.  He  
lit a cigarette, and started walking, out across the  
fields.  He'd not gone ten paces before he trod in  
something rural.  He was beginning to remember why he  
liked living in cities.  
  
After a walk of about half an hour, he came upon a  
tent.  He could hear a voice.  
  
"Why won' ye just leave me alone?"  The voice was that  
of a young Scottish girl, obviously distressed.  
  
The hairs on the back of John's neck stood up.  Well,  
this was the right place.  He coughed to announce  
himself.  Almost immediately, the tent flap was pulled  
back, and a head topped with brown hair looked out.  A  
girl of no older than 18 looked out.  
  
"Who the fuck're you?"  
  
"Me?  Someone who heard someone in trouble, and came  
to help."  
  
"Whit makes ye think ah'm in trouble?"  
  
John pointed.  "There's a bloody great puddle a bit  
that way that says that there's a whole lot of people  
in trouble."  
  
"Whit makes ye think ah've anything t' do wi' it?"  
  
"Lucky guess.  That and the fact that you've got the  
look of someone who has had a *really* bad couple of  
days.  Besides, you're the one who said you had  
anything to do with it, not me."  
  
"Aye, well, what's it to ye?"  
  
"I'm not really sure.  I suppose I'm curious, and I  
suspect you need to talk to someone."  
  
At that point, Catherine burst into tears.  
  
After John had calmed her down, she told him her  
story.  She'd been a normal girl, living in Edinburgh,  
working as a secretary, until one day she'd started to  
hear voices.  She'd feared she was going mad, but  
didn't know who to tell.  Her family had all died a  
short time before when a gas main had exploded under  
their house.  She had few friends, and most of them  
were only really casual acquaintances.  
  
In the end, she'd done what the voices wanted.  Now at  
least she knew she wasn't going mad.  Now she was  
terrified of herself.  She had no idea what to do  
next.  In the end, all cried out, she'd fallen asleep,  
exhausted from the emotional stress.  
  
John sat on the hill-side, staring down at the sudden  
sea, a thin line of blue smoke rising straight up from  
his cigarette.  This wasn't sorcery, not of any kind  
he'd seen before, and he'd seen pretty much all of  
them.  There was a spiritual residue around the girl,  
almost as if she'd recently been possessed by some  
sort of spirit, but if it had been a spirit, it was a  
new one on John.  
  
He'd seen devils, and smelled the lingering stench of  
black they left behind.  He'd seen angels, and felt  
the traces of light that lingered behind like the  
traces of candy floss left on a stick.  He'd seen  
ghosts, and heard the ringing of graves that lurked in  
their wake.  He'd even dealt with a ghost dog once.  
What he'd never experienced was the feel of whiskey,  
coupled with the smell of the Highlands as well as the  
violence of the inner city.  
  
Some thing was up, and John kept waiting for it to  
land on him.  
  
\- - - -  
  
It had been a hard day yesterday and Excalibur had  
done what they could.  Amanda teleporting in to join  
them as soon as she could.  Part of the team or not,  
she, like Brian, could not stand idly by in such a  
situation.  But most of the urgent work was done, the  
cataclysm so sudden and so complete that there was  
nothing that could be done for the towns swallowed by  
icy sea water.  Now they were on the track of the  
cause of this disaster.  Kurt had logged on to Cerebro  
and scanned the area, there was a definite mutant  
presence near the town of Coldstream.  A presence that  
had shown a peak of activity around 7am the previous  
morning.  
  
\- - - -  
  
And yes, here was the other shoe.  Something bearing a  
vague resemblance to a black airborne whale was coming  
in to land nearby.  It touched down and various  
figures climbed out.  All of them were wearing spandex  
of some description, and one was covered in short blue  
fur.  
  
"Bleedin' Nora!  Keep it down, the girlie's asleep!"  
  
Excalibur were more than a bit taken aback by the  
sight of a bloke in a trenchcoat sitting smoking by a  
tent, apparently without a care in the world.  
Nevertheless, they advanced, cautiously.  This could  
be a trap.  
  
"You'd be Excalibur then?  Pete Wisdom's mates?"  
  
Now, they were more than taken aback.  If any of them  
had been asked to compile a list of things they might  
have expected to find here, this would *not* have been  
it.  A Londoner, who apparently knew Pete.  Had he  
caused this?  If so, why?  And if he was a bad guy,  
what had become of Pete?  Kurt recovered himself first.  
  
"Errr, yes, that's us.  And you are?"  
  
"John.  John Constantine.  So, what're you lot doing  
here?  Oh, listen, would you mind if we walk a bit  
away from the tent?  Only Cathy just fell asleep, and  
I think she could use the rest.  Don't want to wake  
her.  If your bloody great stealth bomber there hasn't  
already."  
  
Yes, he had definitely caught them wrong footed.  This  
wasn't the fight they'd been expecting.  Still, if it  
wasn't a fight, that was all to the good.  
  
"Certainly."  Kurt gestured, indicating that John  
should lead the way.  "As to what we're doing here,  
well, we're trying to find out why a large part of  
North England just fell into the sea, and all the  
available information we have indicated that the  
probable cause was somewhere around here.  This is  
going to sound stupid but you're not it, are you?"  
  
"Me?  Do I look like the sort of bloke who sinks bits  
of England?"  
  
"I don't know, I've never met anyone who sank bits of  
England before now."  
  
"Well, no, I'm not the one.  I suspect Catherine is.  
Young lady in the tent back there.  How did you figure  
it out?"  
  
"Well, we're affiliated with the group called the X-Men,   
who have a computer that detects mutants.  It registered   
a power spike coming from this area at around the time   
of the disaster."  
  
"So she's a mutant then?  Hmmm."  
  
"What's that 'hmmm' supposed to mean?" Shadowcat chimed in.  
  
"Only that this makes things even more confusing.  You  
see, it looks to me like she was possessed yesterday  
and -"  
  
"You're a magician?" Amanda added her voice to the  
conversation.  
  
"Ha!  Nah, there's no such thing as magic.  I'm just a  
smart bloke, who keeps his eyes open."  
  
"But if there's no such thing as magic?" Amanda sounded   
confused.  
  
"Heh.  Fancy yourself a bit of a sorceress, do you?"  
  
"I'm progressing along the Winding Way, yes."  
  
"Ha!  Who taught you that kind of mystic mumbo jumbo?"  
  
"My mother, the sorceress Margali"  By her voice there  
was something she wasn't adding.  John filed that for  
later investigation.  
  
"Well, take it from me, it's all crap.  It's a bunch  
of folks poncing around muttering about levels of  
power, and wiggling their fingers in ways that are  
going to give them chronic arthritis."  
  
"You'll pardon me if I don't accept the word of a  
total stranger over something I've been practising  
most of my life."  Amanda was already beginning to  
dislike this man, intensely.  "Anyway, I can discern  
no spirit about the girl."  
  
"That's because you're looking at it wrong.  She's not  
possessed now, for a start, and for another thing, you  
have no idea what you mean when you say spirit, do  
you?  Anyway, this isn't the time or place for a  
discussion on magical theory.  Pop down to London at  
some point, and we can talk about it, but right now we  
have to decide what's to be done with the girl."  
  
"Well, the first thing to do is to get her to Muir  
Isle where we can run some tests!" Brian exclaimed.  
  
"Oh, Christ, a bloody scientist!  Listen, chummy, all  
the tests are going to tell you is that she's a mutant,  
assuming she is one."  
  
"Look, I don't care for your tone, Constantine!" Brian  
remarked.  "Anyway, we can find out exactly what her  
mutant power is on Muir, and train her to control it."  
  
"Oh.  Right then."  
  
John felt a bit stupid.  Not that that was a new  
sensation.  Still, something in him said that this  
wasn't the answer.  Better to  play along for now,  
until he could figure it out properly.  Besides it  
wasn't very often he got to meet super heroes, and he  
was slightly impressed by them despite himself.  Not  
that you'd see him farting about in spandex and   
giving himself a code-name anytime soon, though he was   
definitly in favour of it on women, he thought, looking   
the blond one up and down.  
  
"Well, If you don't mind I'll tag along with you.  
Something tells me I'm going to be needed."  
  
"What makes you think we need help from the likes of  
you, Constantine?"  Brian asked.  
  
Just at that moment, Catherine woke up and stuck her  
head out of the tent.  And screamed in fear at the sight  
of the "heroes".  "I was an accident, I swear!" she   
gasped, scrambling to grab her stuff and make a run for  
it if necessary.  
  
"That, for one." John said, flicking his cigarette away.  
  
\----  
  
The plane touched down on Muir.  It had taken John the  
better part of an hour to convince Catherine that  
these people could help, even if one of them did look  
like a demon. (John had to keep from sniggering at  
this description of Kurt.  No demon he'd seen had ever  
been so good looking.)  Still, they were here now.  
  
And some time later, the results of the tests Moira  
had been persuaded to run (all the while complaining  
about "Bloody sassenachs in mah lab, wi' their filthy  
cigarettes!" and "Ah jist got shut o' Wisdom, and  
another one turns up.") had finally come in.  And much  
to everyone's surprise (except John's) they revealed  
very little.  The girl was definitely a mutant, and  
her power was in some ways similar to Meggans', in that  
it was part empathic/part elemental in nature, but  
there the similarity ended.  
  
It was a day later and John was out for a walk and  
a cigarette, when he noticed another figure out  
walking around the island.  The figure was tall, and  
wore a metal mask over his face.  There was  
unmistakably some kind of occult power about him, so   
maybe he'd be more useful than the rest.  
  
"'Ere Metal Mickey!"  
  
"I presume it is I to whom you refer.  I advise you to  
show a little more respect, and address me by my given  
name, Doom.  What do you want?"  
  
"Ah.  Right.  Well, it's like this.  The girl that  
caused the bother in England the other day is about here.  
Apparently she's a mutant, and well, I thought you  
might be able to help out."  
  
"And what makes you think I have any interest in  
helping you?  Or these fools on this island?"  
  
"Not a lot, really, but I figured I'd ask.  Oh, the  
names Constantine, by the way.  You might have heard  
about me."  
  
"Hmmm.  Perhaps I will help you.  If one of your ilk  
is involved in this, then perhaps it is rather more  
than the usual mutant drivel."  
  
"I dunno yet, but there's something that doesn't sit  
right about all this with me."  
  
  
[A short while later, Doom and John are talking  
outside the medlab]  
  
"Incredible."  
  
"So, you agree then?  I figured it was something like  
that meself, but it never hurts to have a little  
corroboration."  
  
"Indeed.  She appears to have the mutant power to  
channel the spirit of an entire country.  It does  
surprise me that in a place such as Scotland, the  
spirit of the country was able to want one thing above  
all others for as long as it would have taken to  
accomplish that.  Latveria, on the other hand..."  
  
John could see the power lust in Doom's eyes.  It was  
then he realised he'd made a mistake.  Letting a  
ruler, even one in exile know of the existence of a  
power like that was a serious mistake.  He cursed  
himself inwardly.  
  
"Yeah, well, I guess she was just unlucky.  She could  
have gone her entire life not knowing, but something  
happened.  Anyway, cheers mate, I'll see you around."  
  
With that, John walked away, trying to act casual.  As  
soon as he was out of sight, he broke into a flat run,  
trying to find a member of Excalibur.  As luck would  
have it, he came across Kurt first.  He didn't mind  
Kurt, who at least seemed to have *some* brains.  
Braddock, on the other hand, stuck him as a complete  
wanker, but Wagner seemed to have some sort of  
connection to reality.  Even if he was religious.  
  
"Was? Constantine?"  
  
"Shit.  I've made a *very* bad mistake, and I need  
your help.  Listen, is there a phone somewhere I can  
use?"  
  
"Certainly.  What is going on?"  
  
"I introduced Doom to Cathy.  He agreed with me about  
the nature of her power.  I forgot that he's a monarch  
in his spare time."  
  
"You know what her power is?"  
  
"Yeah, she channels the spirit of countries.  Normally,   
that wouldn't be a problem, 'cos most countries have got   
too many conflicting opinions inside.  Trouble was,   
something happened here that made almost everybody in the   
country want to get away from England.  I can sort out   
what that was later, but for now, we have to hide her   
from Doom."  
  
"Eh?"  
  
"Just trust me, OK?"  
  
"Why do I always get nervous when people say that to me?"  
  
  
[Some time later John is on the phone, again.]  
  
"'lo, Pete?  Yeah, John here."  
  
"Badly.  Listen, I need you to do me a favour.  Can  
you meet me at Heathrow this evening?  I'd call Chas,  
but I really don't want him anywhere near this one."  
  
"Actually, I'm up in Scotland, with some of your old  
mates."  
  
"It's a long story.  Listen, will you meet us or not?"  
  
"Cheers.  See you later."  
  
John hung up, and turned to see Moira standing nearby.  
  
"Jist whit d'ye plan on doin' then?"  
  
"I'm not sure yet, but we've got to get Cathy away  
from the tin faced loon out there.  Wisdom's meeting  
us in London, and we'll work out something from there.  
Is she ready?"  
  
"Aye, an' the 'Runner's ready tae go."  
  
"Nah, we can't take the plane.  I want to sneak away.  
You got a boat we can use?  We'll get the train to  
some airport or other, and fly down commercially to  
London."  
  
"Aye, right enough, that might be for the best.  We'll  
try to keep Doom distracted for a wee while yet, an'  
get ye a decent heid start."  
\------------------------------------------------------  
  
To Be continued in Angels and Demons #1.  How long before Doom comes  
looking for John?  And can John actually managed to hold him off?  
  



	10. Excalibur #96

Published: Tue, 09 Apr 1996 19:43:06 GMT  
  
X-writers is a non-profit fan-fiction organisation using characters  
copyright to Marvel Entertainments without their permission.  
  
This issue is dedicated to my brothers Louis and Czeslaw cause they're  
so sweet. The majority of their dialogue is stuff they have actually  
said while on the Underground.  
  
 ---------------------------  
       Excalibur #96  
  "Glasgow's Miles Better"  
      by Marysia  
 ---------------------------  
  
  Brian sat outside of the high tech cell looking doubtful. "So let me  
get this straight. You want to join Excalibur?" There was a faint  
smirk in his voice. He couldn't quite believe he was even having this  
conversion.  
  
  "Yes," answered the young/old man earnestly.  
  
  "You want us to let you out of that cell and give you our complete  
trust as part of the team?" The guy must have flipped.  
  
  "Yes," there was uncertainty in his voice.  
  
  "After you beat me to a pulp and nuked two towns?" Now there was  
anger.  
  
  "Well..." Exodus trailed off. He was no fool to continue this  
conversation. He had no excuses other than 'power corrupts and  
absolute power corrupts absolutely'. He remained silent as the  
erstwhile Captain Britain walked away. With his power drained his  
senses seemed clearer, he could see past his own ego. He wished to  
make up for all the evil he had done. His power would return of  
course, was doing so already, but this time it would be different.  
  
  He had thought that before. Before he had betrayed the mother of  
Lancelot, before he had slain her for the power he now held.   
  
  But once you have such power it is nigh on impossible to give it up,  
the genie cannot be put back in the bottle. Or in this case the demon.  
And they would not be able to hold him here very much longer.  
  
\----  
  
  Moira looked anxiously over her shoulder as she spoke into the  
phone. "Aye tha's right. Aye. An' thanks again f'r arrangin' this  
John. Rahne wis a bit busy durin' the open day. Aye ah'm sure she  
will. Bye then."   
  
  She put down the phone and hurried out her office into the main lab  
where Victor von Doom was looking over the readings of the acolyte  
Unuscione. Her body was infected with an unstoppable techno-organic  
virus, courtesy of Douglock during their battle with the Acolytes just  
over two weeks ago. It looked likely that she would hold on to her  
humanity for a short while but her advancement towards the form of the  
Phalanx was as inexorable as Moira's descent towards death, courtesy  
of the Legacy virus type III. And just like Moira's Legacy infection this  
was completely unexpected. The Phalanx had been unable to infect mutants,  
yet Unuscione was a mutant and she was undoubtably infected. However  
Warlock's version of the techno-virus had been able to infect anyone. Was  
it possible that Douglock was more than he seemed? Or certainly more than  
the Phalanx had been.  
  
  Doom didn't seem to have done anything untoward in the few minutes  
she had been away answering the phone but she glared at him anyway for  
good measure. It had been bliss the few days he'd been closeted away in his  
room after Cathy had left with that John Constantine. She'd been worried  
that he would chase after them, given Cathy's power, but instead he had  
emerged with a worrying "I have a cunning plan" gleam in his eye and done  
nothing. She expected everything would be revealed eventually, not that  
that was a good thing.  
  
  But she had to admit Victor von Doom was a smart man, not just as a  
scientist.   
  
  Doom had learned a lot in his quest to rule the world for its own  
good. Enough to give the appearance of a more peaceful person while  
actually he had just learned to bide his time. Good things came to  
those who waited. Sometimes you just had to start small. Recent events  
on the Scottish/English border had given him an idea. But first he  
felt like showing this MacTaggart woman up by curing the Legacy Virus.  
  
\----  
  
  Sally Blevins, Skids, was glad to be out of the "detention chamber"  
she'd been placed in. After they had determined that she had not been  
at fault for her actions in preventing Shadowcat from saving Colossus  
they had decided to give her more of a free reign, accompanied of  
course. In this case by Meggan. Skids still felt a little, well all  
right a lot after more recent events, lost after the death of Rusty.  
When they had decided to join Magneto on Avalon at had been the first  
free choice they had made in a long time. And that had felt good.  
Despite their associations with the X-Men they had never been as much  
a part of the family as the others. All they had really needed was  
each other.   
  
  All she had wanted was to stay with him forever.  
  
  Holocaust. She would destroy him if she could. Where ever, whoever,  
whatever... she shivered. She couldn't even get that angry, she just  
felt so cold. So empty.   
  
  So alone.  
  
  She wanted... she wanted to get the hell of this God forsaken island  
and go somewhere warm, where she actually knew people. She had to get  
out of here.  
  
\----  
  
  Margali Szardos was once a powerful sorceress, but she had fallen  
low on the winding way. She had lost what gave her power and at first she  
had thought that for the best. She had soon realised otherwise. So in  
order to ascend once more she had... taken... a sword from her daughter. A  
soulsword. But it was not what she had hoped for.  
  
  It's power was tied to an individual and she could not reach it  
although it was in her hands. For it was not, as she had thought, a  
sword imbued with magical powers. It was a piece of a young womans  
soul. And as that, perhaps the sword could be useful after all.   
  
  But she would need to weave a spell, to summon and capture, to hold  
and bind. To bring her what she needed. And that would take a little time.  
  
\----  
    
  Kitty walked two paces behind Rahne and Douglock. How come Moira  
couldn't do this? Well she knew the answer to that but it didn't mean  
she cared that Moira had good reason to remain on Muir while Shadowcat  
accompanied Rahne on her visit to Glasgow University. For not the  
first time Kitty wondered what her life would have been like if she  
hadn't gone to Xavier's, if she had gone to University, got a  
computing degree in the normal way...  
  
  She'd probably have ended up pale and overweight, hunched over a  
computer in a tiny office doing a brain-numbing job. But she was  
forgetting her age again, she was still only 16. If she were just a  
normal kid she wouldn't have even made it to University yet.   
  
  Rahne had decided she wanted to follow in Moira's footsteps a little  
and study something Biological at Glasgow University, starting after  
the summer. She was a little young of course, being only 16, (though  
she'd be 17 by the time her course started) but Moira had sorted that  
out.  
  
  Kitty wondered absently if the X-Men would take her back. I mean  
what was she doing here anyway? Rachael was gone, Kurt had moved off  
the island and Lockheed kept sloping off God knows where (see  
Unlimited #10 for where). If she went back to the X-Men she could see  
Storm and Wolverine more often. Plus she...  
  
  She gasped as she caught sight of a dark haired man in a black  
trenchcoat... then kicked herself mentally. That was the second time  
she'd done that today. It was getting embarrassing. Ever since that  
damn Constantine bloke had appeared and disappeared again, dropping  
Pete's name like a bomb into the conversation. She'd had to bite her  
tongue trying not ask how he was, where he was, could she be any help  
down in London? This was ridiculous. It was like Alistaire Stewart all  
over again only worse, cause this time she'd actually got him and then  
screwed it up.  
  
\----  
  
  Ahead of her Rahne hung onto Douglocks' hand in the milling crowd.  
He was getting pretty good at changing his appearance these days.   
  
  "Ah thought ah'd get Kitty, ah mean Kate, her birthday present while  
wur in th' city," she told him. "But ah'll need ye tae distract her so  
she disnae see whit ah'm gettin' her."  
  
  "I too would like to get her a present. I am looking forward to her  
party, I have never been to a birthday party before. What do you buy  
somebody for their birthday?"  
  
  "Well... ye get them somethin' they really want. Assumin' ye c'n  
afford it that is."  
  
  "So I should pick the thing she wants most that I can get?" he  
questioned.  
  
  "Aye."  
  
  "So how do I know what she wants? I gather it is supposed to be a  
surprise, so I cannot ask her."  
  
  "Ye jist have tae... guess. Fr'm whit ye know aboot her."  
  
  "Very well, I shall analyze all the available variables and  
calculate the gift she most wishes."  
  
  Rahne looked a little worried but figured whatever he came up with  
it was bound to be... interesting, at the very least.  
  
  They entered Hillhead Underground on their way back to Queen street  
train station.   
  
  As the small orange train made its way into the black tunnel a small  
boy, about three years old, began to chant, "Here comes Stanny." He  
was joined by his younger brother, "Here comes Stanny, here comes  
Stanny!"  
  
  'The boys name must be Stanley,' figured Rahne. 'Like the dragon in  
Xanth.' She smiled at him.  
  
  "Stanny lives in the tunnel," the boy informed her, seeing her gaze.  
  
  She frowned, puzzled by his statement. Maybe Stanny was the train.  
  
  The older boy turned to the younger one, "Stanny's coming." The  
younger boy nodded in agreement.  
  
  Suddenly the train lost power and slid to a halt, with a flicker the  
lights went out. A murmur of annoyance ran through the train and the  
older boy asked someone why the lights had gone out. Rahne smiled  
nervously though there was no-one to see except Douglock who could  
probably see in infra-red. She herself was less disadvantaged than  
most with her keen senses. Something about this was giving her the  
shivers.  
  
  In the distance a rumble could be heard from the other direction.  
Growing nearer. There were a few nervous laughs. The other train would  
be on the outer circle, wouldn't it?  
  
  For several seconds the tense crowd listened to the approaching  
crowd, everyone knowing it couldn't be yet deep down unable to accept  
that it wasn't. In the same deep recess of your mind that "the-  
monster-under-the-bed' lives in with his neighbour 'the-thing-in-the-  
cupboard'. Even though you're long since grown-up you still  
occasionally freeze in bed after hearing an unexpected creak. That  
feeling gripped the whole train. Then the noise whooshed past on the  
other line and nervous laughter fluttered through the dark. Rahne  
smiled to herself.   
  
  Then she proceeded to nearly jump out of her skin as the lights came  
on again and she found herself face to face with the younger of the  
two boys, about two or three years old. "Stanny's not real," he said.  
"You don' have t'be scared Rahne."  
  
  She stared in amazement at the boy as the train jerked back into  
motion. He smiled enigmatically and went back to his seat.   
  
  Rahne leaned over to Shadowcat. "Kate!" she hissed. "Did ye hear  
that? He knew mah name."  
  
  Kitty frowned over at the boy, "So what, he's probably a low level  
telepath. I can't exactly see us going to fight the bad guys carrying  
a diaper bag."  
  
  Rahne glared at her. "Fine then, be like that." She tried to attract  
the boys attention but instead his older brother came over.  
  
  "I've got magic eyes," he told her fluttering his long eyelashes. "I  
can make the light go on and off."  
  
  "Whit's yur name?" she asked him.  
  
  "Louis. Your friend looks funny." He was gazing up at Douglock who  
studied him from beneath the brim of his hat.  
  
  "Whit's yur last name?" she wanted to make sure she could find him  
again if she needed too.  
  
  "Kowoji."  
  
  'Damn,' thought Rahne. She'd never remember that and had no idea how it  
would be spelled, but she tried to commit it to memory anyway. Maybe if she  
looked up a phone book she could pick it out, couldn't be that many names  
that could be pronounced like that.  
  
\----  
  
  Meanwhile in a flat not far off Byres Road a student sat alone. In  
his hands he held the stub of a cinema ticket with the title  
"Braveheart" emblazoned on it. On the television a video replayed  
Excalibur helping out in Carlisle. His eyes followed the figure of  
Brian Braddock.   
  
  "Captain Britain," he muttered. "Captain bloody England more like.  
Thinks he's so fuckin' great. Well, we'll see aboot that then won't  
we. Yer ain't the only one round here who ca'n punch through a wall  
mate." He stood up and punched at the wall to prove his point and  
completely failed. "Aah! Shite!" He hopped around clutching his fists.  
"Gottae work on that one a bit."  
  
\------------------------------  
Next Issue: Kitty's Birthday


	11. Angels and Demons #1-2

X-Writers: Angels and Demons -- 1. Hell's Ditch, Part I   
  
Hell's Ditch (Part I)   
  
Disclaimer : Yes, John and Pete are copyright to DC and Marvel. Sorry. Don't   
sue. Please. Grovel. Beg. It's not like money is anything that happens to me in   
any serious amount, anyway. X-writers is a non-profit group.   
Warning : This series contains bad language, magic, religion, politics, scenes   
of graphic cigarette smoking, and perhaps one day some graphic violence. But not   
yet. Still, don't read it if you don't want to.   
  
Writer: anon  
Editor: Marysia   
  
The plane touched down with a juddering thud.  The high whine of the  
engines as they were thrown into reverse went right through John like a hot  
knife through warm butter.  God, he hated air travel.  No smoking, and crap  
food.  Pretty much like British Rail.  Who was it who had said "If God had  
intended us to fly, he would never have given us the railways"?  John  
couldn't really see the difference, except the planes were faster, and less  
likely to be delayed by leaves on the line.  
  
Still, they were here in London now, back where he belonged, as much as he  
belonged anywhere.  They, in this case were John and Cathy, the young  
Scottish girl who had caused a five mile wide strip of England along the  
Scottish border to sink.  She was understandably unsettled by this.  He'd  
found her up in a tent by the sea, arguing with "the voices in her head".   
She'd thought she was going mad.  After meeting up with the spandex-clad  
people in that Excalibur outfit (something about that meeting struck John  
as very significant.  He brushed it to one side, he had far too much on his  
plate right now) they'd determined she was a mutant.  Apparently, this  
qualified them to help her.  Still, they'd been able to give him enough  
clues as to the nature of her power that he'd been able to figure it out  
for himself.  The power to channel the spirit of a country.  John had to  
admit, if he had to have a mutant power, that wouldn't be his choice.  
  
That would all have been fine, but John had noticed another bloke who knew  
about "magic" on the island.  Oh, there was that Amanda Sefton, as well,  
but he hadn't been too impressed with her on first meeting.  She seemed to  
be another one of those "levels" and "paths" and "Ancient and High Order of  
the thingumy whatsit" magicians.  Sort of Supernatural Masons.  As if the  
Masons weren't supernatural enough.  John had no time for them, unless  
they could help him.  And when she'd missed the obvious signs of possession  
around Cathy, he'd given up.  No, he had to go and drag Doctor Doom into  
it, didn't he?  
  
So he'd lit out of there as if the hounds of hell had been at his heels.   
It was only while he'd been on the plane that he'd calmed down sufficiently  
to realise that Cathy wouldn't be as directly useful to Doom, or any  
government as he'd thought.  Oh, they'd be very interested in learning just  
how her power worked, and trying to develop stuff based on it, but her  
power was too unpredictable to be of much direct use.  Still, he  
reckoned he could expect pursuit within a short while.  A month, at the  
most.  More likely within the week.  
  
The "Fasten Seatbelt" sign went out.  If only the sodding "No smoking"  
would go out too.  Still, not long 'til they'd be away from the airport.  
  
\-----  
  
Pete was waiting for them down by the luggage collection point, John noted,  
as they descended the escalator.  He wasn't hard to spot, a dark version of  
John.  Where John was yellowy brown, both in hair and coat, Pete was black.  
Where John smoked mild Silk Cut, Pete inhaled lung rotting Marlboro.   
Still, neither of them liked Spandex very much.  Except on women.  
  
Pete had sorted himself out somewhat since John had last seen him, after  
that business with Matt.  The bruises had faded by now, the spring was back  
in his step, and the light in his eyes was a little older and wiser.  John  
could see Pete growing up into him, only the "Superhero" version.  Where  
John made unflattering remarks about the others in his profession, Pete  
felt similarly about the lot he'd hung around with.  And he'd no more be  
able to stay away from them for any real length of time than John could lay  
off the magic.  Still, from what John had seen, Pete was the most stable of  
his lot.  And he had to admit, Excalibur weren't a bad bunch.  Braddock was  
a bit of a wanker, but the rest of them weren't that bad.  Just bad enough  
that you could complain about them, but secretly quite like them.  
  
  
[Pete's POV]  
  
John looked less hungover than when Pete had last seen him.  After that  
business with Matt.  
  
Pete broke off his train of thought abruptly.  He did not want to go down  
that path.  
  
John still had the same cocky grin, and slightly arrogant strut.  Pete had  
practised them for hours, but he couldn't carry them off as well as John,  
so he'd settled for looking black and moody.  Pete wondered what John had  
made of Excalibur.  Probably about as much at Pete had made of some of the  
other folks in John's line of work, about as well balanced as upturned  
eggs, from what John had told him.  Seems like John and Matt were part of  
a small number with their feet on the ground.  Nah, Excalibur weren't quite  
that bad.  And they were better than.... than.... Pete stopped himself  
again.  
  
"Pete!  Alright mate, how's it going?"  
  
"Pretty good, John, you?"  
  
"Same as always"  
  
"That bad, huh?"  
  
"So, who's the stunning young lady?  
  
"Huh?  Oh, Pete, this is Cathy.  Cathy, this is Pete.  He's a bit of a  
wanker, but he's alright, if you keep him where you can see him."  John  
grinned at Pete.  
  
"'lo there Cathy.  And how are you?"  Pete loftily ignored John's comment.  
"No' so bad.  Ah'm still no' exactly sure why we had ta come runnin doon  
here at the drop of a hat, but ah'm no' exactly sure about a lot in my life  
right noo."  She gave him a brief smile.  
  
"Welcome to the club.  So, why are you back so fast John?"   
  
John grabbed his case, as it swam past on the carousel.  
  
"The name Victor von Doom ring any bells?"  
  
"Shit!  What's he doing on Muir?"  
  
"I've no bloody clue, have I?  I've no idea what's going on the world just  
at the moment.  I was taking a break, same as you, before...."  
  
"S'cuse me."  Cathy reached out and grabbed her rucksack.  Cathy had  
complained about not being able to get the rest of her stuff, but she had  
all her practical necessities with her (or so she'd assured John) in there,  
and at the time John hadn't wanted to take a detour round by Edinburgh.  
  
"Look, can we get out of this bloody airport, so's I can have a fag, and  
then we'll see what we can do about sorting the world out, OK?"  
  
\------  
  
Pete pulled up at John's place.  It wasn't much. but it was home to John.   
Even if he was going to be sleeping on the couch for a bit.  
  
"Here we are then.  It's not much of a place, but then, John's not much of  
a person."  Pete grinned at John.  
  
John opened the door.  
  
"Shite!  This place stinks!  Whit'd ye do, set fire to your sofa?"  
  
Pete and John, both smokers, exchanged blank looks.  John handed Pete the  
lighter, having lit his own.  It was about this point that Cathy twigged.  
  
"John Constantine!  Ye drag me awa' from mah life in Edinburgh without so  
much as a by-your-leave, ye don't stop to let me get mah stuff from mah old  
place, and ye expect me to live in a place that stinks like this?  Ah  
dinnae think so!"  
  
"What's wrong with the place?"  John's tone was perhaps a bit defensive.  
  
"It reeks!  And when was the last time you cleaned up?"  
  
"I dunno, about a couple of weeks back, I guess."  
  
"A couple of weeks?!"  
  
\----  
  
"No, don't throw that out!  It's important!"  
  
"Whit aboot this?"  
"That too!"  
  
Pete was sitting on the sofa, carefully remaining neutral.  He watched with  
no small amount of amusement Cathy's attempts to tidy John's place up, and  
John's frantic efforts to save his stuff.  
  
"Ye can't be needing these old rocks any more!"  
  
"Yes I can!  They're...." John broke off.  
  
"They're whit?"  
  
"They're something that has just given me an idea."  John rapidly cleared  
some space on the floor.  He rummaged about down the back of the sofa,  
momentarily displacing Pete, and produced a piece of chalk.  He quickly  
drew a circle on the floor, and wrote around the outside in an obscure  
script.  At this point, Pete twigged what was going on, and left the room.  
  
"Oi, Pete!  If you're going out, nip down the corner shop, and grab me a  
pair of long bootlaces, will you?  Cathy, can you move over there?"  
  
"Whit the fuck're ye up tae?"  
  
"Just trust me.  Whatever you do, don't move."  
  
Pete closed the front door behind him at that point.  
  
\----  
  
When Pete returned, about 15 minutes later, John and Cathy were arguing  
again.  He breathed a sigh of relief.  Whatever John had been up to, he was  
done now.  Pete had no desire to go anywhere near magic ever again, not  
after.....  
  
"Pete?  That you?"  
  
"No, it's the bloody tooth fairy.  Who'd you think it is?"  
  
"You get the laces?"  
  
Pete walked into the lounge, and found that both John and Cathy were now  
acting out their roles one handed.  Each was holding one of the stones in  
the other.  Pete noticed, for the first time that the stones had holes in.   
Had they had holes in before?  He couldn't recall.  Cathy's eyes looked a  
little wild.  He wasn't surprised.  
  
"Yeah, got 'em.  What d'you want 'em for?"  
  
"Give one to Cathy, and chuck the other over here"  
  
John threaded the lace through the hole in his stone.  Cathy did likewise.   
Both of them fashioned a loop, and hung the stones over their heads.  
  
"That's about the best I can do for now.  Should hide us for a week or so.   
They'll keep anyone looking for us with magic off, at any rate.  And trying  
to find us in London any other way'd be like a needle in a haystack."  
Or at least, John hoped so.  He didn't have a great deal of faith in this  
kind of shit, but he'd try anything.  If he could buy some time, he could  
figure out what to do.  
  
At that point, John's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his front  
door crashing of its hinges.  A man size shape filled the lounge doorway.   
A man size shape, with large, feathery wings.  Wings that had once been  
pristine white, but that now dripped dark crimson blood.  
  
The face was angelically beautiful.  Classic features, carefully sculpted  
by their creator.  But it was twisted into a malevolent sneer, that its  
creator had perhaps never intended, a sneer born of contempt, of hatred,  
and of a burning, all consuming, desire for revenge.  
  
"Gabriel!"

\-------------------------

X-Writers: Angels and Demons -- 2. Naked Howling Freedom, Hell's Ditch, Part II   
  
Hell's Ditch (Part II): Naked Howling Freedom   
  
Copyright bits : Yes, John and Pete are copyright to Marvel and DC. Yes, Doom's   
Marvel's as well. Gabriel might belong to DC, but I suspect some religious bunch   
or other got him first. The author intends no challenge to the rights of any   
companies, he just wants to have a little, harmless non-profit making fun. So   
don't sue. X-writers doesn't make any money either.   
Other bits : This title is intended for mature readers. Read it if you like, but   
don't come crying to me if you find anything that offends you. This is my brain   
here, and I make no apologies for it. I'm a part-time sicko, yes.   
Written by anon, with thanks to the Pogues.   
 

Crimson, it fell, sparkling slightly with liquid sheen as it caught the  
sun's light which was streaming in through the window.  It hit the floor  
after what seemed like an eternity of descent, staining the threadbare  
carpet a rusty red.  More blood dripped from his wings as Gabriel stood in  
the doorway, the sunlight striking him through the dusty air giving him the  
semblance of a burning aura.  
   
And how appropriate the burning aura was, mirroring the burning rage inside  
of the former archangel.  His mind  burned with the desire to have his  
retribution on the one man he hated most in all the worlds.  The one man  
who was ultimately responsible for his fall from grace.  The one man whose  
machinations, whose desperate attempts to avert his rightful fate had  
damned one who had once sat at God's right hand.  Gabriel was no  
Morningstar, risen in revolt against his creator, no serpent seeking to  
ensnare souls into damnation eternal.   He had spent countless billions of  
years doing his creator's will, never questioning the tasks he was set.   
And because of one man, he was now and forever barred from the Silver City.  
One man.  John Constantine.  
   
\----  
   
Pete lay huddled in a corner, muttering to himself ("Ohnohnoohnohono").   
Cathy was trembling, backed up against the wall, her face pale, her eyes  
wide with horror.  John took a look at the wrathful being that had just  
burst through his front door, thought fast, and lit a cigarette.  "Here we  
go again" he reflected.  
   
"Constantine, you will die this day!"  
   
"Fair enough.  Go ahead then."  
   
Gabriel paused, nonplussed.  Confusion was a new sensation to him.   
Constantine should have been begging for mercy at this point, mercy which  
Gabriel was not going to grant.  Why was the smug little bastard so calm?  
   
"Do you not understand me?  I have come to kill you for what you've done to  
 me, you worthless piece of excrement!"  
   
"Oh, I'm right there with you, mate.  Go ahead and kill me."  
   
John's mind was racing.  He'd at least bought himself some time.  He didn't  
know how Gabriel had escaped from Hell, but that was something for another  
day.  Right now, he had to think of a way out of this.  Gabriel could kill  
him with no effort at all, so he had to keep delaying the fallen angel as  
long as he could, give himself time to come up with something.  He'd got  
him talking, which was a start.  
    
"Why do you not beg for mercy?  Why do you not entreat me to spare your  
 pitiful life?"  
   
Gabriel searched for comprehension.  Constantine lacked the power to hold  
him off, even at his reduced level. There was no way he could stop Gabriel,  
if Gabriel attacked.  
   
"Would it do any good?"  
   
"Well, no"  
   
Gabriel faltered.  He was finding it difficult to hold on to his anger in  
the face of this calm acceptance.  This was Constantine, who had been dying  
before, several times, and had always fought bitterly, to the very end,  
and on previous occasions, had won.  But this time there would be no escape  
for him.  There, that was more like it.  Don't let the little shit make  
you feel sorry for him.  Do not pity he who is without it.  
   
"Then why bother?  Go ahead and kill me, if you're sure that's what you  
 want to do."  
   
"Why would I be uncertain?  After what you did to me, revenge is all I want  
 of you!"  
   
"Well, I was wondering if you'd really thought it through, that's all."  
   
John grinned.  He'd figured it out.  With any luck, this'd stop Gabriel.  
   
"What is to think through?  You petty schemes damned me to an eternity of  
 suffering.  When the power of those two spells, a spell of summoning, and a  
 spell to disrupt bindings rang across the cosmos, I was released, and since  
 then, my one desire has been to see you choke to death, in your own blood!"  
   
Now John was a bit confused.  What spells?  If they were that powerful,  
he'd probably have felt them.  Still, right now, he had to stay alive.  
   
"Well, Gabriel old son, you've obviously not been keeping up with current  
 events.  Y'see, if you kill me now, I'll be popping off to heaven.  Right  
 now, I'm not headed for hell, and I don't really think that was what you  
 had in mind, was it?"  
   
"What?!  You, Constantine?  You, not bound for hell?  How is this possible?   
 You are a sinner of the worst possible order!  Your soul was forfeit to  
 Satan by right of insult!  And since he disposed of the other two lost  
 brothers, even though he was temporarily removed from power, he *can* claim  
 your soul on death."  
   
John allowed himself a slightly smug grin, and blew smoke.  
   
"Well, it's a long story.  First off, right of insult no longer applies.  I  
 beat him three times, fair an' square. You know the rules down there."  
   
"But the twins?  Agony and Ecstasy?"  
   
"Killed 'em, didn't he?  He might be able to avoid taking my place, but he  
 can't alter the rules of claim.  I checked."  
   
"That matters little.  As I said to you before, you broke the rules.  The  
 ten commandments were but a joke to you.  Even you cannot evade the rules  
 that the Almighty lays down."  
   
"Actually..."  
   
"What?!  How is this possible?"  
   
"S'an even longer story.  I got rid of all the naughty bits, though.  Take  
 a look."  
   
Gabriel peered closely at John.  Even though his powers were reduced, he  
could still do this.  He gazed into John's soul, expecting to find a  
stinking mire of corruption, lies, and deceit.  But no, this soul was  
untainted, comparatively speaking.  Less than an average man's soul would  
be by the time he was half John's age.  
   
"Impossible!"  
   
"Nah, just bloody difficult.  Anyway, you see my point?  I snuff it, I get  
 the old harp and wings.  And you don't want that, do you?"  
   
"No, I don't.  I will not grant you your final victory."  
   
"Good stuff.  Now what're you going to do with yourself?  After all, you  
 can't go back to Heaven, and you don't want to be off to Hell, do you?"  
   
"I...I do not know.  I must remain on Earth, and for one of my kind, that  
 is hell.  I have sufficient power to hide myself from those that might seek  
 to find me, but beyond that, I will scarce be better than...than.."  
   
"Than a mortal?  Nah, you'll be a bit above most of us, anyway.  Besides,  
 it might give you a whole new perspective on things, trying to do things  
 the hard way, finding out what life's like at the short end of the stick."  
   
"Perhaps.  But I will have my vengeance on you one day.  You know this to  
 be true."  
   
John was slightly taken aback by Gabriel's matter of fact tone.  He  
shouldn't have been surprised, he supposed.  After all, in Gabriel's eyes,  
he'd done nothing to deserve what John had done.  Still, if Gabriel spent a  
bit of time wandering around the planet, perhaps that new perspective would  
encourage him to think for himself.  Already John's mind was coming up with  
several possibilities for the future.  It could have been a lot worse, he  
reflected.  
   
"I don't doubt it.  But for now, would you piss off and leave me in peace?   
 You're bothering Pete."  
   
"Very well, Constantine.  Another time."  
   
And with that, he was gone.  John breathed a sigh of relief.  That had been  
*really* scary.  He didn't mind the supernatural, on *his* terms, but when  
Angels and Demons started turning up unexpectedly, he got a bit bothered.  
   
"Whit the fuck was that?"  Cathy recovered faster than Pete, which wasn't a  
great shock.  
   
"Bad news.  Very bad news.  That was the former Archangel Gabriel."  
   
"Ye're shitein' me!"  
   
"I wish I was, believe me.  Look, don't worry about it, it's me he's pissed  
 off at.  Now, give us a hand with Pete here.  Jesus!"  
   
John pinched his nose, as he detected a rather offensive odour emanating  
from Pete.  
   
\----  
   
Gabriel left that place, to plan.  So he couldn't kill Constantine.  But he  
could make his life very difficult indeed.  He had noticed that both  
Constantine and the woman who was with him were wearing charms against  
scrying.  But who would be looking for them?  This bore further  
investigation.  He strolled on, having decided to walk in the park at that  
time, his wings hidden, as they normally were.  
   
"'Scuse me mister!"  
   
A small child, no older than 8 was trying to attract his attention.  
   
"Me ball's stuck in the 'edge.  C'n you get it down for us?"  
   
Gabriel started to walk on, to ignore the bratling, then a thought came to  
him.  He turned and reached the ball down from the hedge, where it had  
lodged out of the child's reach.  He threw it gently to the boy.  
   
"Brilliant!  Thanks!"  
   
The boy ran off happily, kicking the ball ahead of him.  Gabriel smiled  
briefly, then walked on, returning to his brooding.  
   
\----  
   
That evening, after Pete had cleaned himself up (John refrained from making  
smart remarks, and had asked Cathy to do the same.  It wasn't Pete's  
fault.) and gotten some clean clothes, they sat around in the now-tidy  
living room.  Cathy pointedly sat at the other end of the room from Pete  
and John, who were both feeling in need of a fag after the day's events.  
   
"Anyway John, what was it you wanted me to do?"  
   
"Right.  I know you quit your old job, but d'you still have friends in  
 Black Air?  People who owe you a favour, or something?"  
   
"One or two.  Why?"  
   
"Well, from what you told me, they're likely to be able to get their mitts  
 on some fancy guns, right?"  
   
"Probably."  
   
"Well, I figure Doom'll be down here sooner or later, probably sooner, and  
 I want to be ready for him.  You think you can get your mates to lend me a  
 hand?"  
   
"I'll see what I can sort out.  I'll get back to you tomorrow.  Now, fancy  
 nipping out for a quick pint?"  
   
\----  
   
Gabriel had returned to his rooms as night fell, after spending a day or  
two walking, getting used to his new world.  Physical exahaustion, at  
least, was still something that happened to other people.  He still owned  
some rather nice property in London, so at least he wasn't homeless.  He  
spent a short while in contemplation, then began a little divination.  
Within minutes, he had a name and a place.  Time for a quick trip to Scotland.  
   
The Isle was protected by wards, by they were a simple matter to circumvent  
without triggering them.  He was already using a sizeable amount of power  
to escape detection, so it wasn't hard to use a little more, and evade  
these as well.  Then he went looking for Doom.  In seconds, he had  
ascertained that the man was alone in his room, and materialised.  The  
wards around Doom's chambers were better than the ones around the Isle as a  
whole, but still merely mortal magics.  
   
"Good evening, I believe we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement."  
Gabriel got straight down to business.  
   
"What?  Who are you?  How did you get here?" Doom, however, was merely  
mortal, and was concerned about unimportant trivialities.  
   
"I am someone who knows where John Constantine is to be found.  I mean you  
 no harm, I simply wish to aid you to further my own ends."  
   
"How did you circumvent my wards?"  
   
"Does it matter?  Do you wish the information or not?"  
   
"I do, but first I would know more about you."  
   
"I am not here to discuss me.  I am here to discuss Constantine."  
   
"How do you know where he is?  He has escaped my detection thus far, how  
 are you able to find him?"  
   
"Will you please stop asking after irrelevant details?  Be assured that I  
 know, and would see him...inconvenienced."  
   
"Very well.  Say on."  
   
Doom filled this mysterious stranger for later investigation.  He was  
obviously powerful, and the one thing Doom desired above all others was  
power.  
   
"He is in London.  Here is his address."  
   
Gabriel handed Doom a piece of paper with John's address on it.  
   
"However, you are *not* to kill him.  Hurt him, take what you desire from  
 him, but you may *not* kill him."  
   
"Who are you that presumes to order Doom thus?"  
   
"I am one that has circumvented your petty magics.  Think on it."  
   
With that, Gabriel was gone.  
   
Doom sat a while in contemplation.  He didn't need to kill John, he just  
wanted Cathy.  The girl might be a risk, but given the right facilities he  
could at least study her power, learn how it worked, and develop from  
there.  Anything else was too unpredictable.  And the stranger who had come  
and gone like a phantom, who was he?  And how could Doom control that power  
for his own ends?  
   
He rose, and began to weave a network of protective spells about himself.   
He had heard enough of this Constantine to make him cautious.  Could he  
perhaps have met one more proficient in magic arts than himself?  He didn't  
like the path this involvement with Constantine was leading him down, but  
he wanted his country back, and that required risk.  He shelved all  
questions and doubts for later.  For now, he had business in London.


	12. Excalibur #97: Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This issue falls between Uncanny #330 and X-Men #51.

X-Writers is a non-profit fan-fiction organisation using characters  
copyright to Marvel Entertainments. I have a cold so be nice to me.  
  
  
                -------------------------------------------  
                               Excalibur #97  
                                "Surprise!"  
                           Writer: Marysia  
                -------------------------------------------  
  
   Kitty Pryde sat in her room and picked at the wool on the sweater her  
grandmother had sent her for her birthday. It was pink. It had come with a  
sickening card with a bunny rabbit and balloons on it. It had said "Sweet  
Sixteen" in raised gold letters. It was on it's way the bottom of the sea  
at the moment. She couldn't believe her own grandmother had got her age  
wrong.  
  
   She threw the jumper aside and started to shred the card Inspector Dai  
Thomas had sent her. She was _not_ going downstairs.  
  
   Meggan had baked a cake... it was pink too.  
  
   Bastard hadn't even sent her a card.  
  
   Ororo and Logan would be here soon.  
  
   I mean, sure, he didn't actually know when her birthday was, but he  
could've found out. He was a bloody secret agent after all. What's the  
point in being a bloody secret agent if you can't even find out the  
birthday of the girl you slept with once who told you to piss off and send  
her a bloody card.  
  
   "Good God, Kitty, you are talking such bollocks," she told herself. <And  
if you don't go downstairs soon Moira is going to come up and get you.>  
  
\------  
  
   She decided she was going to be nice today. After all it was her  
seventeenth birthday and everyone was trying so hard to make it right.   
  
   She remembered her fifteenth birthday party, in Paris with Courtney  
Ross. She'd danced all night. Only it hadn't been Courtney Ross, it had  
been Sat-yr-9. It made the memory bitter. Courtney had been so good to her,  
had meant so much to her when she had thought she would never see the rest  
of the team again. She would never know why Sat-yr-9 had gone so far to  
fool her. But it must have been even harder for Brian, especially as his  
brother Jamie had been involved too. Jamie Braddock who lay in a stupor in  
the bowels of the research facility still. She'd sort of missed out on her  
sixteenth, easily done when you were a super-hero.  
  
   She shook herself and headed downstairs where the party was being  
prepared. She could hear voices.  
  
   "Do you think she'll come down by herself?" asked Brian.  
  
   "I don't know, if she doesn't I'll go and get her," answered Kurt.  
  
   She smiled and stepped into view, "No need Kurt, I'm here."  
  
   Storm and Wolverine had already arrived.  
  
   "Kitten. Happy birthday."  
  
   She hugged them both, it was always too long between visits.  
  
   But before they could talk there were presents to open.  
  
\------  
  
   "Hus anyone seen Doug?" asked Rahne. "He wis so excited aboot the party  
ah dinnae ken why he's no here."  
  
   As if on cue there was a knock on the door.  
  
   "Birthday greetings friend Shadowcat. I have brought you what you want  
most in the world that I can afford." He gestured to a very large pink  
parcel tied with gold ribbon standing in the middle of the garden.  
   
   Kitty stared at him a moment then recovered. "That's... very nice. I  
guess I better open it then."   
  
   Everyone crowded outside in fascination as she began to tug, somewhat  
apprehensively, at the ribbon. As the paper fell away a wooden box was  
revealed with air holes down the sides. A faint shuffling could be heard  
inside. Lockheed growled suspiciously at the box.  
  
   "Here, let me," offered Meggan and she tugged the front off the box.  
  
   Inside was Pete Wisdom, bound in rope with tape over his mouth.  
  
   "Mph mph mmmmmm!!" he said.  
  
   Kitty stepped forward with a grin and ripped the tape off.  
  
   "Ow!! Bloody hell!" he glared around at the shocked gathering. Moira  
McTaggart was stood near the back practically paralytic with hysterical  
laughter. "This is _not_ funny!"  
  
   Douglock stepped forward, "Do you like it? I had to tape his mouth  
because he wouldn't be quiet even when I told him it was meant to be a  
surprise. Is this what you wanted?"  
  
   Storm frowned, "Kitten, why would this person think you wanted a man for  
your birthday? And a rather rude man at that." She glared at Pete.  
  
   "Rude? Rude! I'll give ye rude ye bloody," Kitty replaced the tape,  
"mmph umph mmm-mm..."  
  
   Kitty cleared her throat, "Storm, Ororo, I'd like you to meet Pete  
Wisdom. He works for Black Air..."  
  
   As she introduced him Meggan untied the ropes and he ripped the tape off  
his mouth. "I bloody do not!"  
  
   "... worked for Black Air and now he's going to join Excalibur."  
  
   "Like hell I am!" "Like hell he is!" Said Pete and Moira simultaneously.  
They gave each other a dirty look.  
  
   "Excuse me a minute," said Kitty and led Pete off by the arm to where  
they could talk without being overheard. "Okay, I'm only going to say this  
once." She took a deep breath, "I'm sorry for ignoring you and I'm sorry  
for yelling at you and it did mean something to me and will you please stay  
because I've missed you so much."  
  
   He looked at her suspiciously.  
  
   "Please?"  
  
   He sighed, "Oh for crying out loud, if you put it that way."  
  
   She smiled and hugged him. "I really am sorry you know, it all happened  
so suddenly and I guess I wasn't sure how to handle it."  
  
   "Yeah well, I guess I shouldn't have rushed things." Something suddenly  
occurred to him. "It's your birthday today?"  
  
   "Uh-huh."  
  
   "Um... how old are you then?"  
  
   "You mean you don't know?"  
  
   Well it didn't seem the most important nugget of information to find out  
before the Genosha mission."  
  
   "Oh... I... that is..."  
  
   Pete started to worry, "Well, spit it out."  
  
   "Seventeen," she said hopefully.  
  
   "You mean you weren't... thank God! I had hideous visions of it being  
your sixteenth. McTaggart would've bloody reported me."  
  
   "She wouldn't report you, besides it's not like she knows what happened."  
  
   "Oh she knows all right, I know that sort. They always bloody know.  
She'd've told the heavy mob back there and Nightcrawler'd dice my bollocks  
before I could say sauerkraut."  
  
   Kurt wouldn't do that! Besides he already knows."  
  
   "What?"   
  
   "Well I had to talk to _someone_. I'd have talked to Rachel but she's  
not here any more."  
  
   "Who the fuck's Rach... what the hell is that?"  
  
   She turned around to see what Pete was looking at only to see a fiery  
figure coming towards them through the sky. Kitty ran forward.  
  
   She stared in amazement as Rachel landed lightly on the ground towing a  
rather dishevelled Pyotr Rasputin.   
  
   "Does this belong to anyone?" she asked. "I found him headed this way  
along the sea bed." She let go of him and he dropped to his knees and took  
a coughing fit. "Happy birthday Kitty."  
  
   "Rachel? Rachel!" Kitty ran and hugged the slim red-head. "Where have  
you been? What happened?"  
  
   Rachel thought for a moment, "Um... it's kinda complicated. I see Brian  
got back all right."  
  
   "Well, eventually," said Kitty. "But I'm so glad you're back, I've  
missed you."  
  
   "I'm not quite back Kitty," Rachel said gently, "I've decided to stay  
with the X-Men on Asteroid M for a while. I... owe Magneto for something."  
  
   Kitty was about to argue the point when Colossus spoke. "Katya?"  
  
   She quickly turned her attention to the second of her friends that  
appeared to have returned from the dead. "Peter, are you... all right? I  
never meant to... I mean it was an accident. When I saw you change back to  
your human form I was afraid, I thought you were... we couldn't find you  
anywhere."  
  
   He climbed to his feet a little shakily. "I know that you did not want  
to harm me. You did what you had to do against an enemy such as the Shadow  
King. He released me before I landed and I was able to change back to my  
armoured form, I was... lucky."  
  
   Pete butted in, "So who're they?"  
  
   "Oh! Pete, this is Pyotr Rasputin, Colossus. An old... friend, from the  
X-Men, and Rachel Summers, Phoenix. She used to be a member of Excalibur.  
Pyotr, Ray, this is Pete Wisdom, my..."  
  
   "Boyfriend," put in Pete and Kitty smiled in gratitude.  
  
   Colossus looked him up and down as if unimpressed.   
  
   Rachel grinned, "Way to go, Kitty."  
  
   "Boyfriend?" asked Ororo. She didn't sound like she approved.  
  
   "Give the girl a break 'Ro," put in Logan. "She had to start sometime."  
  
   "I suppose."  
  
   Pete whispered in Kitty's ear, "These aren't your parents are they?"  
  
   Kitty laughed and shook her head.  
  
   The crowd broke up and people went off in twos and threes to discuss the  
new arrivals.  
  
\------  
  
   Storm and Wolverine took Colossus aside.  
  
   "We were all worried about you." Storm told him, she paused and then  
decided to ask. "Peter, when we last met you said you would not return to  
the X-Men. Will you not reconsider that decision? In a way Magneto has  
returned to the X-Men, will you not do so also?"  
  
   Colossus turned to Wolverine. "What do you say? Last time we met you  
called me a turn-coat. Is that still what you think?"  
  
   Logan looked a little guilty. "Heat o' the moment Petey. I wasn't quite  
me back then. Mebbe the regression was natural, like Charlie an' Heather  
said, don't mean I had to like it." He popped his adamantium claws. "Thanks  
ta this I'm back t' normal. Whatever that is." He sheathed them again.  
"It'd be good t' have ya back, if ya want t' come back."  
  
   He seemed to consider it  
  
   "It is a tempting offer. I have been so angry with life lately and it  
strikes me that I have acted on that anger not on thought. I wanted to  
strike out at my old life and how better to do so than to join the  
Acolytes. But I do not wish to jump into anything, you must let me think  
this over. If I still want to, then I will join the X-Men once more."  
  
   Storm smiled, "You have always been welcome Peter."  
  
   He glanced over at Pete and Kitty, "But for now I think I shall leave. I  
heard the other Acolytes were here."  
  
   "I believe so, but you should ask Moira."  
  
   "I shall."  
  
\------  
  
   "Moira," she turned around. "I believe you have some of the Acolytes  
prisoner here."  
  
   She eyed him suspiciously. "Aye; Unuscione, the Kleinstocks, Skids,  
Exodus an' Frenzy; an' here they'll stay. It's bad enough that Doom's only  
gone an' vanished wi' Wanda Maximoff, am no loosin' any mair o' them."  
  
   It is one particular prisoner I am referring too, Skids. She has done  
nothing wrong other than choose to live in Avalon. You have no right to  
keep her here." He tried to sound less demanding. "She was one of us, Dr  
McTaggart, part of our family. Let her come with me... or lock me up too."  
  
   Moira's face softened. "T' tell the truth. Ah've no bin happy keepin'  
her here. She's so unhappy an' ye're right, she's no one o' them. She an'  
Rusty, may he rest in peace, had a real run o' bad luck. Ah know whit it's  
like tae be manipulated by the Shadow King, an' they were brainwashed by  
Stryfe an all." She lowered her voice. "Get goin' then an' take her wi' ye.  
Ah won't mention it till ye're well away. An' good luck."  
  
   "Thank you Dr McTaggart. Will you say good bye to Katya for me?"  
  
   "Of course."  
  
\------  
  
   Pete watched Kitty chat quietly to Storm and wondered what they were  
saying about him when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned round and  
looked down to see Wolverine standing before him. Nightcrawler stood behind  
him.  
  
   "Thought we might have a quiet word while we got the chance, eh," said  
Wolverine.  
  
   Pete had a very bad feeling about this. He'd heard of Wolverine, who  
hadn't. He had a sudden urge to stand with his hands over his balls.  
  
   "Me an' the elf here, we've known Kitty since she was thirteen. She's  
real special to us."  
  
   "Ja, real special," echoed Kurt.  
  
   "Well, great, that's really nice."  
  
   "An' we know she ain't real experienced with this sort o' thing. The big  
Russian an' her used to have a thing together an' she got hurt pretty bad.  
I let him live cause he's a friend. You ain't no friend of mine, bub."  
  
   "Er..."  
  
   "Just thought I'd make that clear. Now how about a drink, eh?"  
  
   "A drink," now there was something he could handle. "Sounds great."  
  
\------  
  
   Rachel hung around a corner eavesdropping on Wolverine. She still hadn't  
got up the guts to tell him what Apocalypse had told her. That he, not  
Scott Summers, was her father. She envied his closeness with Kitty, they  
would never have that. Too many years lost, too many differences of opinion  
while they were both X-Men. And then there was Scott Summers, grieving once  
more for his wife, her mother in a way, who lay in a coma. Could she really  
tell him that she was not his child? Or that his real child, Cable, was  
dead of the Legacy Virus. She had told no-one that either, but she had felt  
it when he had died. If she told anyone then Cyclops would find out and he  
wasn't ready for that yet, not on top of everything else that had happened.  
As it was he still had hope that Cable had found help somewhere. So many  
secrets. She hated knowing so many secrets. Xavier and Magneto were falling  
apart and the X-Men seemed to be going with them. But at least Excalibur  
were safe, sane. Well more or less. She wished she could come back here,  
but she didn't want to spoil things. Didn't want to jinx them with her  
presence.   
  
\------  
  
   But if Rachel had known the future as well as the present perhaps she  
would have stayed around. For down in the soaring hills of Wales a woman  
was gathering what power she had around her and beginning her incantations.  
With only bread and water to sustain her she would weave her magics over  
the weeks to call to her the one thing she needed to regain her full power  
and more. Margali would destroy anything that stood in her path to rise to  
the top of the winding way.  
  



	13. Excalibur #98

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Excalibur meet Captain Scotland

Published: Tue Jun 04 18:30:03 1996  
  
X-Writers is a non-profit fan-fiction group using characters copyright to  
Marvel Entertainments. We're nice and sweet and kind, please don't hurt us.  
  
                          ------------------------  
                               Excalibur #98  
                                "Braveheart"  
                           Writer: Marysia  
                           Edited by Andrew Wheeler   
                          ------------------------  
  
Muir Island:  
  
"So when 'Yana... died... it was the last straw I guess. He burnt all his  
sketches, all his paintings. All except that one." She gestured to the  
portrait of a young girl with blonde hair that hung on her wall. "For some  
reason that hurts as much as anything else that happened. They were so  
beautiful, so much a part of him and of the history of the X-Men, and now  
they're gone..." She paused a moment and Pete ran his hand up her arm in a  
gesture of comfort. "At the funeral he turned on the Professor. Blamed him  
for her death... and then Magneto appeared. There was a fight... there's  
always a fight," she sighed. "Peter stopped them from killing Magneto and  
he left us." Kitty twirled Pete's hair around her fingers as he rested  
against her. "Professor Xavier called me in a while later and said that he  
had some sort of brain damage. I agreed to... lie to him... to get him to  
Muir so they could try and fix it. It was a mistake. I mean he did  
need our help but there must have been a better way to go about it. I think  
in a way I was still angry at him... for dumping me... for going with  
Magneto. But it's too late now. I don't think we'll ever be as close as we  
were before, too much has happened." She blew hair out of her eyes. "Too  
much is always happening. Why does so much keep happening?"  
  
"Fucked if I know."  
  
She hit him lightly, "That was a rhetorical question dummy." She turned his  
head to her so she could look at him. "Anyway, that's the story of me and  
Peter Rasputin. So are you going to tell me what the hell happened to you  
in London or not?"  
  
Pete sat up and perched on the edge of the bed in silence. He reached for  
his pack of cigarettes and began to twirl one, unlit, in his fingers.   
  
'No smoking in the damn bedroom,' he thought. 'Bloody hell.'  
  
"Well? Pete?" Kitty crawled over to sit behind him. "If you don't tell me  
I'm going to assume you were seeing someone else and then I'll have to  
sulk."  
  
"There isn't much to tell," he lied. "Tried to help a mate of mine out of a  
bad situation, failed. End of story."  
  
"What do you mean you failed?"  
  
'Oh great,' he thought. 'Bang goes my heroic image. See what you've done  
now Matt?' He tried to smile at the thought but he couldn't. Instead he  
explained himself, bluntly, "Failed as in he's dead. All right?"  
  
"Oh... I'm sorry." She started to draw away, upset at his inability to talk  
to her, but then changed her mind. "It's just that, well, we ought to talk  
about stuff like that. I mean, it'll help. Won't it?" she blurted out.  
  
  
He sighed and turned around again to take her hands. As he spoke he ran his  
fingers over the backs of them as if searching for something. "The thing  
is, I don't really remember everything that happened. Matt got mixed up in  
some dangerous stuff and I got him out, but there was still something wrong  
and he was dying. This bloke, Constantine..." he looked up to see if she  
knew who he was talking about and she nodded. "... he tried to help and I  
went to get the thing he needed to cure Matt and I couldn't do it. I don't  
remember what happened."   
  
Every time he tried to approach that memory, whether in thought or in  
words, he saw a blackness. Felt a sickness in his gut and his vision  
blurred just for a second. John was right, he didn't want to know. Not now,  
maybe not ever.   
  
"So Matt died." He finally looked up at her, "But I'm okay, I mean it hurts  
like hell but I did what I could and it wasn't enough and that's just the  
way it is sometimes."   
  
He stroked her cheek and she pulled him into her arms.   
  
'It's okay,' he thought burying his face in her hair. 'It's really okay.'  
  
\------------------  
En route to Glasgow:  
  
"Do you think I'll like the film?" asked Meggan earnestly. "Moira said I  
wouldn't like it cause it really happened. Did it really happen?"  
  
"Uv course it bloody did," answered Moira.  
  
Brian snorted.  
  
"Just whit are you insinuating Mr Upperclass Englishmun?" she demanded.  
  
Pete rolled his eyes, here she went again. Brian might not be the best  
company in the world but he had to feel some sympathy for a fellow  
Englishman when she started.  
  
Kitty interceded. "Why don't we just reserve judgement on how historically  
accurate it is till _after_ the film?"  
  
'Long after the film,' thought Pete.  
  
It was supposed to be a double date; him and Kitty, Brian and Meggan; till  
Moira got a wind of what they were going to see. Wild Shetland ponies  
couldn't have kept her from accompanying them.  
  
They'd decided not to bother going out to dinner afterwards. Moira at her  
most ornery, as she undoubtably would be after seeing the film that  
succeeded in provoking a nation to such fervour that it possesed a young  
mutant girl and incited her to tear Scotland and England apart in a roar of  
foaming waves and falling rocks, in a group with two Englishmen and an  
American wasn't really wise. In fact it was downright frightening.  
  
\------------------------------  
Near Stornoway on the Isle of Lewis:  
  
Amanda walked the beach in silence, the wind blowing her hair into her  
eyes. She'd left Kurt alone in their new home feeling hurt that he couldn't  
help her. That she wouldn't tell him why she was upset. But she had good  
reason not to tell him. She knew Kurt, better than anyone. His solution to  
her problem would be to head off into the unknown and deal with it. Deal  
with it and get himself killed, he had even less of a chance against her  
mother than she did. Whatever happened she would not involve him. She sat  
down on a rock and wrapped her jacket around herself.  
  
She felt it before she saw it this time. But then the presence was much  
stronger this time, more powerful.  
  
Water swirled and she appeared.  
  
The Lady of the Lake.  
  
Amanda scowled, unsurprised. "Aren't you supposed to be freshwater only?"  
she asked sarcastically.  
  
The woman frowned but ignored her comment. "I presume you know why I am  
here?"  
  
"I presume."  
  
"I didn't want to have to do this Amanda," the woman said, looking annoyed.  
"But this is your task, your mistake. You must fix it."  
  
"I know, I was going to..."  
  
"You must fix it now! Not tomorrow, not next week. Now! This will not wait,  
the spell is almost complete, can you not feel it?"  
  
"I... yes. It's just... I'm afraid."  
  
"Of what Amanda?" the Lady of the Lake asked more kindly.  
  
"That only one of us is going to make it out of this alive," whispered  
Amanda.  
  
\------  
Braddock Manor:  
  
The three of them sat around the dinner table, deep in discussion.   
  
"Are you sure it was her?"  
  
"Of course I'm sure, I ought to know my own team-mate. It was Karma  
alright, I'd bet my life on it."  
  
"So what are you going to do?"  
  
"Well I think we should ask her to join us." Amara looked at Feron  
hopefully.  
  
"I don't really see the point," he said finally. "Being a superhero team  
was a stupid idea, Excalibur get all the headlines. It's so..."  
  
"DON'T say it!" interupted Amara. "And it wasn't a stupid idea and I'm  
going to get Xian from London to join us whether you like it or not. I  
don't know why I asked you in the first place, it's not like you own the  
house or anything." She left, grabbing her coat and the car keys on the way  
out.  
  
Tom Jones, Alchemy, watched her go with a silly grin on his face.  
  
"Oh for crying out loud," said Feron as he levitated out of the room. "Must  
you be so pathetic?"  
  
Tom looked after him, startled at the unusual outburst. Since he'd come to  
stay here the best word to describe Feron had been apathetic. Him actually  
showing an emotion other than depression was quite a step. Mind you he did  
seem to have a handle on being bitter too. He was building up quite the  
repertoire.  
  
Once they had four members they'd really be a superhero team, Tom thought.  
Three just didn't cut it, especially when one of the three was never paying  
any attention. At this rate they were really going to have to come up with  
a name. Something snazzy, something eye-catching. But they still had to  
answer the big question, X or no X? And he'd thought the being heroic bit  
was going to be difficult, he still had to come up with a costume as well.  
Feron had his green monk look, Amara still had her old New Mutants costume,  
a good thing too as it was the only thing that didn't get incinerated when  
she changed to her molten form. Unstable molecules, she'd said, as if he  
was supposed to know what that meant. He'd tried sensing the molecules but  
all it had gotten him was a headache. She'd taken the X off it though. He  
felt silly running around in a t-shirt and jeans next to them.  
  
\-------  
Glasgow:  
  
They had left the Midnight Runner cloaked in a building site near Buchanan  
Street and were heading back there in stony silence. Taking two Englishmen  
to see Braveheart at one of the busiest cinemas in Glasgow hadn't been such  
a good idea. At the end of the film there had been a standing ovation and  
they had found themselves surrounded by cheering Scots with tears of anger  
in their eyes, Moira included.   
  
  
Kitty had turned to Pete and hissed at him, "Don't say anything!"  
  
He had started to ask why but she'd put her hand over his mouth, "They'll  
tear you apart you moron. Look at them."  
  
He looked at them. He had to get out of here. It was like a thousand clones  
of McTaggart after too much of her coffee.  
  
They'd escaped without incident but then Brian had said it.   
  
"Don't you think it's strange that an Australian using American money and  
Irish scenery can get so many Scots so worked up. Especially since it  
wasn't even that historically accurate. I mean that oppressed minority  
thing is so in fashion these days."  
  
Moira was walking five feet ahead of the rest of them with her fists  
clenched when they heard a commotion a few streets down.  
  
Heading towards it they were confronted by an interesting sight.  
  
In the centre of George Square stood a man of about twenty wearing a kilt,  
Doc Martins and a leather jerkin. He was brandishing a broad sword and had  
a bit of tartan material with eyeholes cut out of it tied around his head.  
  
"I am Captain Scotland!" he shouted.  
  
"Can ye fly?" shouted out a teenaged girl.  
  
He looked annoyed and ignored the question. "F'r too long huv the Scots  
relied on English heroes. Captain Britain... whit did he ever know about  
our lives. An upper class English twat wi' his heed in the clouds! Ah'm one  
o' you, part o' the Scottish tradition. An' tigether we cun drive oot the  
English an' be oor own country again. Fight fur whit we want an tae hell  
wi' the English!"  
  
"This is ridiculous," said Brian.  
  
"Look who's talking," answered Pete with a grin. "Mr. Union Jack himself."  
  
"I had a responsibility, a position of authority to withold..." Brian began  
sternly. "This yob is simply trying to incite a riot."  
  
"Away an' stick it up yer jacksee Brian," said Moira. "Ah think he's kinda  
cute. He ought tae watch that wind though wearin' that kilt an aw... oops,  
too late."  
  
The man grabbed at his kilt as the wind threw it up and nearly cut off his  
foot with the broadsword. "Shite!" he bellowed as the crowd behind him  
discovered Captain Scotland was indeed a true Scotsman. The scene was  
vaguely reminiscent of that famous Marilyn Monroe picture.  
  
He got his wayward clothing under control again and wondered what to say  
now, he rather felt the moment had been broken.  
  
  
He was of course right.  
  
The crowd began to disperse, the majority having classed him as a drunk.  
  
They weren't far off the mark.  
  
"Do you think we should talk to him?" asked Kitty.  
  
"What for?" Brian seemed nonplussed at the question.  
  
"Well, maybe he's a mutant."  
  
"So what if he is?"  
  
"Well maybe he could do with a bit of help."  
  
Brian sighed, "Talk to him if you want then, just try to remember that  
we're not Xaviers School For Gifted Youngsters."  
  
At this Moira had had enough, "Oh, _we_ arnae are _we_. An' just when did  
ah gi' ye half ownership o' _my_ research facility?" She stomped over to  
'Captain Scotland' who was sitting dejectedly on a bench. "Excuse me, are  
ye a mutant by any chance?"  
  
'Oh, way to be subtle Moira,' thought Kitty.  
  
The man looked up suspiciously, "Why shud ah tell you?"  
  
"Because," said Moira with a big grin. "That big blonde sassenach over  
there is Captain Britain, an' if ye'll punch him out fur me ah'll gi' ye a  
tenner."  
  
"Moira!" said Meggan.  
  
Pete burst out into laughter. 'She might be an old witch sometimes but  
you've got to admit, she has style,' he thought to himself.  
  
'Captain Scotland' stood up and peered at Brian through slightly  
untrustworthy vision. "Ye're Captain Britain then?"  
  
Brian stood up straighter, "That's right."  
  
"Bloody tosser." Captain Scotland took a swing, missed completely, and  
knocked himself out on a lamp post.  
  
Brian sighed, "And this is what's going to drive out the English. I hardly  
think so."  
  
Something snapped. "Ye two-faced, ex-alky, pompous, English, annoyin'  
arsehole!" Moira didn't miss. She'd never been more grateful for the extra  
kick her Legacy induced powers gave her. Brian joined Captain Scotland on  
the pavement.  
  
"Oh really!" exclaimed Meggan. She increased in size and threw a limp body  
casually over each shoulder like two mink stoles. "I think we better go."  
She set off for the Midnight Runner at a jog with Kitty and Pete at her  
heels.   
  
Moira followed at a more sedate pace with a self satisfied smile on her  
face.  
  



	14. Angels and Demons #3

X-Writers: Angels and Demons -- 3. Bound with Chains of Fine Gold, Hell's Ditch, Part III   
  
  
Hell's Ditch (Part III): Bound With Chains of Fine Gold   
Writer : anon   
Edited by Andrew Wheeler   
  
Doom's Marvel's, John's DC's, anything else is mine, all mine. No challenges to   
copyright are intended, I'm not disputing anyone's right to what's theirs, so   
long as my right to have a little harmless fun isn't going to be disputed   
either. I'm not making any cash, nor is X-writers. Don't sue. Or we'll say nasty   
things about you.   
Oh, and the Mature Readers label that comes with the title is still here,   
although this is a tame and boring issue. I just can't be arsed not to put this   
warning in, in case someone says something.   
  
Twilight purples and blues.  The roar of traffic in the  
distance.  The chaos of the city.  A cigarette glowing  
cherry red.  Streetlights, casting pools of sodium glow  
against the darkness.  
  
John strolled home, more than a bit on edge.  Doom would  
be here soon, he knew it.  Pete's mates had agreed to  
help, in exchange for some info from John, so John had  
gone looking for it.  And, of course, found it.  Nothing  
terribly exciting, just a few names to go with faces.  
John knew most of them, almost all Americans, almost all  
more than a little unbalanced.  Those he couldn't name,  
well, he knew people who could.  Some of them were even  
still alive.  He pulled his trench coat tightly about  
him, against the chill of the February night.  
  
Rob and Jay were still at John's flat when he got back.  
They were lounging on his sofa, watching TV.  
  
"...More outbreaks of nationalist violence in Scotland.  
A spokesman for the SNP denied that the party had any  
connection with this violence, and did not in any way  
condone such activity, although he added that the recent  
disaster, while tragic, could well be the best thing to  
happen to Scotland in quite some time."  
  
"Evening lads.  Any sign of the tin pot arsehole?"  
  
"Nothing yet, John"  
  
"Nuh."  
  
Jay seemed to be monosyllabic.  It was beginning to get  
on John's nerves, but at least they'd be able to do  
something about Doom.  There was no other way for John to  
be ready for him but this.  And with any luck, it'd be  
over soon.  
  
\------  
  
Interlude : An office in Edinburgh  
  
The desk was polished mahogany, glowing warmly under the  
soft lighting of a lamp.  It was neatly organised, pens  
in holders, papers stored tidily in the "In" and "Out"  
trays.  The man seated behind the desk appeared to be in  
his late forties or early fifties.  His hairline had  
receded to the top of his head, and he was greying at the  
temples.  He wore a smart grey suit, one that was  
obviously expensive without being ostentatious.  
  
There was the thud of the outer office door closing.  The  
man rose, went to his door, and looked out, checking that  
his secretary had gone for the evening, back to her home  
and family.  He didn't want to risk being caught.  And  
just perhaps, he didn't want her to get hurt.  Just  
perhaps.  
  
Returning to his desk, he picked up the jet black  
receiver of a telephone with enough buttons on it to pass  
for a small computer.  His fingers danced across the  
keypad as he dialled.  
  
  
"'lo?"  
  
"Good evening.  Mr McTavish?"  
  
"Aye, it's me.  What d'you want?"  
  
"My employers consider it time for some more...trouble.  
Pick a police station in Glasgow.  Burn it down.  The  
usual fee will be left for you.  Ensure everyone knows  
why it happened."  
  
"Aye"  
  
  
The man replaced the receiver, and smiled, a short, thin  
smile.  A stood, and walked to the window.  A swift tug  
on a cord, and the venetian blinds pivoted allowing him  
to gaze out over the city skyline.  Tall dark buildings  
stretching up as if to touch the sky, lights winking out  
in each one like eyes closing, as the working day ended,  
and the city began to sleep.  At the same time, other  
places were just coming alive.  The pubs and the clubs  
would beginning to fill soon, welcoming lights against  
the foggy gloom that was setting over the city.  
  
And dominating all, commanding the skyline, the castle.  
  
"One day, that will be yours."  A voice hissed in his  
ear.  
  
He spun to face the newcomer.  A man shaped form stood  
there, human looking, but with rubbery skin, and a  
slightly snake-like face.  It never spoke above a  
whisper.  
  
"Dammit, I've asked you not to do that!"  
  
"I do as it is in my nature to do.  Your preferences  
matter little to me and mine."  
  
The man was unsettled.  He tried not to show it, but he  
was uncomfortable in the presence of this creature.  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
"Merely to see that all proceeds as planned."  
  
"Of course it does!"  
  
"Good."  
  
"Now, will you name your price for your help yet?"  
  
"In time..."  
  
\------  
  
Doom arrived at the address the stranger had given him,  
just as dawn was breaking.  A run down block of flats in  
North London.  This was where Constantine lived?  He  
checked that his mystic protections were still in place,  
and ran a diagnostic test on his armour, his physical  
protection.  Both were functioning perfectly, as he had  
expected.  He expected nothing less of these things that  
he had devised.  
  
Then he strode into the building.  
  
\-----  
  
"He's here."  
  
"Everyone ready?"  
  
"Aye."  Cathy's voice sounded nervous, and who could  
blame her?  
  
"As I'll ever be."  Rob stood in the corner, in as much  
shadow as the carefully arranged lighting and furniture  
in the room could generate.  There was the occasional  
metallic glint, as his gun caught the light.  
  
"Uh."  Jay's grunt of assent came from behind the  
curtain.  
  
John went out of the bedroom, into the living room and  
took his place on the sofa.  
  
Then the door crashed in.  Had everyone forgotten how to  
knock?  Doom strode into the living room, a tall,  
imposing figure, in gunmetal armour, a green cape  
swirling about him.  John lit a cigarette, and grinned, a  
wide, insolent grin.  He knew that always irritated  
people.  
  
"Where is she, Constantine?"  
  
"I really wish you lot would remember I have a first  
name, too.  And incidentally, who exactly should I send  
the repair bill for my door to?"  
  
"I warn you, do not trifle with me!  I have killed men  
for insolence such as that!"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, change the sodding record.  You aren't going  
to kill me until you know where she is, and you can't  
actually find her, can you?  Oh, and just out of  
curiosity, how exactly did you find us?  I know you  
couldn't have used magic, and you probably  
wouldn't have thought to just look in the phone book,  
would you?  Too normal for you, isn't it?"  
  
John kept pushing it.  He needed Doom as off balance as  
possible, as unfocused as he could make him.  He checked  
his watch nonchalantly, just to be offhandedly insulting.  
  
"You will tell me now, or I will kill you, and wring the  
truth from your shade if needs be!"  
  
"Yeah, all right.  No need to come the jumped up petty  
dictator with me, arsehole.  She's in the bedroom.  I  
wouldn't go in there if I was you."  
  
Doom paused, regaining his temper.  When he next spoke,  
it was at a lower volume, and in a much more even tone.  
Whatever Constantine was trying, he would not be caught  
by such an obvious trap.  A lesser man, perhaps, but not  
he.  
  
Doom turned, to leave the room.  
  
"First door on the right." John called out helpfully,  
then getting up and walking after him, being careful to  
stay out of reach.  
  
Doom flung the door wide, then stopped.  Cathy stood  
inside a protective circle in and around which there was  
a runic script that he did not recognise.  Some of the  
symbols glowed faintly, others lay dormant.  A quick  
check revealed a magical radiance that filled the room.  
  
"What is this?"  
  
"Oh, pull the other one, it's got bells on.  D'you think  
I'd tell you?"  
  
Doom spun, and grabbed John, who had negligently allowed  
himself to come within reach.  John found himself gazing  
into a pair of eyeslits, at the orbs beyond, while Doom's  
voice grated :  
  
"You try my patience with your stupid bravado.  You can  
either tell me now, and live, or I will kill you, then  
deduce the nature of this magic.  Which is it to be?  
Fall before the might of Doom, as so many others?  Or  
live on, beaten, as all must eventually be, but alive?  
Decide now, for I grow weary of this."  
  
John looked past Doom into the bedroom.  
  
"Sorry, Cathy.  Alright, it's a protection.  Anyone who  
crosses the boundary of that circle with magic about them  
had better like vegetables, 'cos they're going to be  
spending the rest of their life as one.  It'll go off if  
you try to dispel it with magic either."  
  
"Then you dispel it!"  
  
"Can't, can I?  There's no way to turn it off.  That's  
why I've never used it before.  S'a bloody stupid spell,  
really, but I couldn't think of anything better."  
  
"So this is the great John Constantine?  A man so  
desperate, so short of ideas, so slow of thought, he will  
invoke magics he has no control over, just over one  
little girl?  I had expected better from you, given your  
reputation."  
  
Doom flung John aside, and he hit the wall, and slumped  
to the floor, nor moving.  
  
Cathy's face went pale inside the circle, but she said  
nothing, just fingered a bracelet she was wearing about  
her left wrist.  
  
Doom paced around the circle thinking, examining the  
spell.  
  
Cathy looked more nervous.  Her knees started to tremble,  
and she sat down before her legs gave way.  
  
Doom smiled, beneath his mask.  He had found it!  A loop  
in the threads of the spell, where it could be cut  
without effect upon the dispeller.  A tough place to  
break, but Doom had more than enough power.  He  
concentrated, intoning in arcane tongues, building his  
power, focusing his energies on that one spot.  Then he  
released them.  The glowing runes went out and Doom  
stepped forward.  
  
"Now!" barked John, eyes snapping open.  
  
Rob and Jay fired simultaneously, stepping out from their  
concealment.  Darts, trailing bright blue energies,  
streaked forward striking the one time dictator, who flew  
backward, out of the room, landing on his arse by the  
front door.  
  
John got up, and walked into the bedroom.  
  
"Gotcha, arsehole.  Don't come any closer, unless you  
really like turnips.  See this nice looking watch?  And  
that rather tasteful bracelet?  Well, in each of these is  
a rather nifty invention called a magi-chip.  Stupid  
name, but apparently the sod who came up with in wasn't a  
very imaginative chap.  Now, you've just had your aura  
slightly re-aligned.  You come within five yards of us,  
and you'll be clobbered with a rather nice little spell  
that'll really put your day down the crapper.  Oh, and  
don't send anyone else to get us either - I'm told this  
thing can read thoughts.  You can plot all you like, but  
as soon as you try to harm either of us, it'll go off.  
Modern technology.  Moves so fast, really."  
  
"Impossible!  I felt no spell!"  
  
"There wasn't one.  Your aura got electro-magnetically re-  
aligned.  (You've heard all those theories about how all  
your aura is is the electro-magnetic field your nerve  
impulses give off, right?  I'm assuming you aren't  
totally behind the times here?)  Now there's a wonderful  
machine somewhere that's able to track you, and read your  
aura.  Step out of line, it'll deck you.  Oh, and yes,  
this is "the great John Constantine".  I needed your aura  
as clear of other extraneous things as possible, so you  
had to be kept calm and focused.  I bet you never win at  
poker, either, with that mask off.  Now bugger off and  
get your country back, or something."  
  
Doom looked at John with pure hatred in his eyes, and  
then turned and left.  
  
"Thank Christ that's over.  At least he didn't arse about  
with threats of vengeance.  I was getting tired of all  
the shite he was spewing."  
  
"He did go on a bit, didn't he?  Prat.  Anyway John, it's  
been fun, but we gotta go back to work.  Cheers for that  
info you got us, and if you ever need any more help, I'm  
sure we can find other stuff for you to get hold of for  
us."  
  
"Uh."  
  
"Yeah, thanks for the help, lads.  Listen, before you go,  
was all that guff about auras and electromagnetism really  
true?  Sounded like a right load of old cobblers to me."  
  
"S'true, apparently."  
  
"S'a funny old world, innit?"  
  
"Uh."


	15. Chapter 15

The next issue, Call to Darkness, is set before and during Traitor's Gate in Uncanny X-Men #335-337 and X-Men #55-56.


	16. Excalibur #99

Published: Wed Jul 03 22:59:16 1996  
  
X-Writers is a non-profit fan-fiction organisation using characters  
copyright to Marvel Entertainments and DC Comics. Treat us nice or we'll  
cry. Really we will, we're very fragile.  
  
              ------------------------------------------------  
                               Excalibur #99   
               A Call to Darkness part 1 "To Face the Dragon"  
                           Writer: Marysia  
              ------------------------------------------------  
  
   "Will ye hurry up, this bloody hurts!"  
  
   "Aw shut yur yap ye big jessie, ah'm just lookin' at yur blood flow.   
Now hold still!" Moira inserted another needle into another artery and  
injected the dye into his arm. On the video screen it spurted through   
his arm showing the blood flow spreading through the capillaries and   
into the muscle.  
  
   "Ohya!"  
  
   Moira made notes on her pad. "Ye see, that's why ye're havin' problems  
wi' yur strength. The muscles dinnae have enough blood supply yet, an' yer  
a wee bit anaemic an' all. The muscles grew pretty fast, aye?"  
  
   "Aye."  
  
   "Well ah expect yon capillaries will catch up wi' them if ye eat proper  
an' take the supplements ah' gi' ye."  
  
   "So is that it then? Just the strength?" He sounded a bit disappointed.  
  
   "Can't say fur sure yet," Moira answered. "If it's only been a couple o'  
months since ye started tae manifest then there might be more still tae  
come. Depends whether ye're first generation or second. The further down  
the line ye are the more likely there'll be more tae come, specially since  
it's just generic strength rather than somethin' more fancy."  
  
   "Ye make it sound so ordinary."  
  
   "Well, ah'm afraid it is. One o' the most common mutations is generic  
strength, most mutants huv it tae some extent along with their other  
abilities, that's one o' the things whit makes them so resilient, that an'  
the fast healing. Jist aboot all mutants heal faster than flatscans."  
  
   "Oh."  
  
   "Ah could run a genetic scan tae see if thur's anything in there that ah  
recognise matches other known power signatures but ah cannae really be  
bothered so ye'll just have tae wait an' see. Anyway, ah've got better  
things tae do than stand here gabbin' all mornin'." Moira began plucking  
the various needles from his arteries at high speed, whacking sterile bits  
of cotton over the wounds.  
  
   "Ow! Fuck! Slow down!"  
  
\------------  
  
   "Just talk to her, find out what's going on for me. I'm worried."  
pleaded Kurt.  
  
   "I'll try," replied Kitty. "But Amanda doesn't know me that well, why  
should she talk to me?"  
  
   "I don't know, but she certainly won't talk to me."  
  
   "Well I suppose I can try." Kitty headed into town leaving Kurt to  
continue the shopping Amanda had sent him to do. He had called Kitty in on  
the sly and asked her to pretend she just happened to be over and thought  
she might drop by. He had to find out what was going on.  
  
\-------------  
  
   "So you have to go and stop her from doing whatever it is she's doing  
but you don't really know what she's doing other than the fact that it's  
pretty powerful and you're not even sure where she is except she's in  
Britain somewhere south of us?"  
  
   "Well... yes. So will you keep Kurt occupied over on Muir till I leave?"  
  
   "Well... I suppose," Kitty said, trying not to sound too agreeable to  
the plan. "After all it doesn't really involve us."  
  
   "Right, that's exactly what I thought. You better go then and take Kurt  
back to Muir, ask him to stay for dinner or something. I'll be gone by  
tonight. Thanks, Kitty."  
  
\-------------  
  
   "Margali has the soulsword! Oh great," was Nightcrawler's response to  
the news.  
  
   "Margali?" Pete asked.  
  
   "Amandas' mother, she raised Kurt." Kitty explained.  
  
   "Wait a minute." Pete leaned forward with a smirk on his face. "You're  
telling me that fuzzy and the witch were raised as brother and sister?" The  
smirk broke into a grin as he leaned back again raising an eyebrow at  
Nightcrawler. "I'm sayin' nothing."  
  
   Kurt growled but restrained himself, he would kill him later. "She is a  
very powerful sorceress."  
  
   "In that case I think I know just who we need. I'll give John a buzz."  
Pete added.  
  
  'Oh great,' thought Kurt. 'That's really going to put Amanda in a good  
mood.'  
  
   Pete left to phone John and Kurt spoke to the rest of the room. "I don't  
think we should all go."  
  
   "Doug an' me'll stay an' look after Moira," volunteered Rahne.  
  
   "Now hold on a moment," interrupted Moira. "Ah think ah c'n look after  
muhself just fine. Ah've managed so far haven't ah?"  
  
  
   "But there are the prisoners to think about," noted Brian. "If they were  
to break out there wouldn't be much the staff could do. You need some of us  
here just in case. Meggan and I will stay with Rahne and Douglock."  
  
   "Meggan and I certainly will not! I'm going with them." Meggan said  
pointedly.  
  
   "She is right Brian," added Nightcrawler. "We need Meggan with us."  
  
   Brian scowled but didn't complain.  
  
   "Whit about me?" asked Captain Scotland, now better known as Fergus.  
  
   "You'll stay here," said Kurt quickly. "This will be no place for  
amateurs. You can help Brian."  
  
   Brian and Fergus exchanged unpleasant looks at the suggestion.  
  
\-------------  
  
   Amanda finished her packing, thankful to Kitty for distracting Kurt  
while she made her escape. But as she stepped out the door she found  
herself faced down by Kitty, Kurt, Pete and Meggan. "What?"  
  
   "We're going too," Kurt informed her.  
  
   Amanda turned to Kitty. "You said you wouldn't tell anyone! You said  
you'd cover for me!" Amanda accused her.  
  
   "Well... I had my fingers crossed."  
  
   "I did not want you involved, any of you. This is my problem."  
  
   "If the soul sword is involved then it is certainly not just your  
problem" Kitty retorted. "Illyana gave it to me not you, I should never  
have trusted anyone else with it. I'm sure I could have learned to cope  
with it. And Margali is as good as Kurt's mother, so this is his business  
too."  
  
   "And what about them?"  
  
   "What is the point in having friends," said Meggan. "If you can't rely  
on them to help you out every now and then?"  
  
\-------------  
  
   Brian approached Exodus' cell with a scowl, as usual, "What is it now?"  
  
   "Something is happening, tell me what it is!"  
  
   "It's none of your business."  
  
   "I have powers beyond your understanding, I can sense the spell  
building. You need me, you must let me accompany you."  
  
   "Listen to me you lunatic! You are a prisoner not a team member. You are  
dangerous and probably insane and a murderer to boot. Why the hell should I  
let you out? Why the hell would any of us want your help? You. Are. Not.  
Needed." Brian spun and stalked away leaving Exodus staring after him  
angrily.  
  
   'I do not need your permission, Captain Britain, to fight for good,' he  
thought. 'You do not have a fraction of the strength necessary to stop me.  
I will be present in this debacle and I shall be the one to prevent that  
which is about to occur.'  
  
\-------------  
  
   The sirens sounded as soon as they detected the empty cell and Brian  
arrived there to find several of the non-mutant staff surrounding the still  
locked room. "What happened? Where is he?"  
  
   "Gone," answered one of the guards. "I don't get it though. The cell  
should have circumvented his mutant powers but it looks like he teleported  
out. He could be anywhere now."  
  
   "No," said Brian. "Not anywhere, in fact I know exactly where he's  
headed. Well sort of."  
  
   Moira came down the corridor followed by Fergus. "Not another one! At  
this rate we're no goin' tae have any prisoners left. Ah'm goin' ta ship  
Frenzy and the Kleinstocks tae America before we lose them an' all."  
  
   "We'd still have Skids as well if you hadn't let her out," Brian noted.  
  
   "Well... aye. But it wis in a good cause," Moira answered defensively.  
"But youse two better get off after Exodus."  
  
   "What do you mean?" Brian asked then realised what she meant. "Oh no, no  
way. I am not going anywhere with him!"  
  
   "Oh yes ye are, much as I hate tae do it ah'm no lettin' ye go after  
Exodus on ye're own. He'd rip ye tae shreds an spit on the pieces."  
  
   "And he's supposed to help? I can't fight Exodus and baby him at the  
same time. He has no experience and can't even control his powers."  
  
   "Hey!" protested Fergus.  
  
   "He'll be fine as long as he doesnae over exert himself an' you don't  
huv eyes in the back of yur head ye know. Fergus is goin' an' that's  
final!" Moira headed back to her lab.  
  
   Fergus grinned, "Ah'll just go an' get ma costume then."  
  
   "Oh for Gods sake. At least leave the broadsword behind."  
  
   "No way! Ah'm pretty good wi' that ah'll have ye know."  
  
\--------------  
  
   Amara knocked unconvincingly on Ferons' door hoping he would ignore it.  
Beside her, glancing in an unsettled manner at the decor, was Xian Coy  
Mahn. Karma, the oldest of the original New Mutants.  
  
   "Come in."  
  
   She sighed and opened the door. Feron was hovering in mid air in the  
centre of the room, his eyes closed. But there was a cast of concentration  
over his face, not the usual calm of meditation.  
  
   "What are you doing?"  
  
   He answered slowly, his voice detached and eyes still closed. "Something  
is going on. There's this woman in Wales casting a spell. A big one. I'm  
trying to figure out what it's supposed to do."  
  
   "What if she notices you?" asked Magma nervously.  
  
   "The spell is complex, it takes up all of her concentration. She won't  
notice me. She's trying to summon something..." he frowned. "Wait, she has  
something. A sword of some sort. She's going to use the sword to open a  
gate... but to where?"  
  
   Amara stepped closer. "Can I see?"  
  
   He opened an eye and glanced at her, "I suppose. Go get a bowl of  
water."  
  
   "What?"  
  
   "Water. Bowl. Fetch."  
  
   She pursed her lips in annoyance but went to fetch the water.  
  
   "Not from the tap," he called after her. "Get it from the waterfall."  
  
   "Oh for Zeus's sake," she muttered.  
  
   He turned his open eye to Karma, "Who are you?"  
  
   "Xian," she answered. "Karma."  
  
   "Oh..." he closed his eye again.  
  
\----------  
  
   Amanda was sulking in the back of the midnight runner. Besides, if she  
went up front with the others they might ask her if she had a plan. It  
wasn't that she didn't have one, it was just that it wasn't exactly a great  
plan. In fact as plans went it was down there with "why don't I give the  
soulsword to my mother".   
  
   Her plan was this. She was going to sneak up on her mother, possible  
with the rest of the team distracting her since they were there, and grab  
the soul sword. End of plan. There was a reason Amanda was an air  
stewardess and it wasn't that she really loved flying.  
  
   Kitty came back to speak to her. "Hey."  
  
   "Hey."  
  
   "Pete says that John said that Margali was definitely to the north-west  
of him but not as far away as Ireland, he figures somewhere around mid-  
Wales, Shropshire or Hereford and Worcester. Where do you think?"  
  
   "John? John as in John Constantine?"  
  
   Kitty nodded.  
  
   "That's it, if he's going then I'm not. If that arrogant know-it-all  
prat knows so damn much about magic then I'm sure he doesn't need us."  
  
   Kurt joined Kitty, the Runner was on autopilot as they headed south.  
"Amanda!"  
  
   "Well..." she subsided. "Oh bloody fine then, see if I care anyway."  
  
   Kurt and Kitty exchanged exasperated glances. "Where do you think?"  
repeated Kitty.  
  
   Amanda glowered and closed her eyes. "Wales I think, England is too far  
west of us. I sense her south. Somewhere in the mountain range, what's it  
called?"  
  
   "The Cambrian Mountains."  
  
\-----------  
  
   Amara returned with the bowl, "Now what?"  
  
   "Put it on the floor, sit down and look into it. Try and clear your  
mind. You shouldn't find that too  difficult." He instructed.  
  
   She thought about tipping it over his head, little-snot. But she was too  
curious so she did as he said. Karma remained quiet against the wall, it  
was strange to be back among these people after where she had been for the  
past year.  
  
   Amara gazed into the water and after a few moments an image began to  
form. Hazy and silent but clear enough that she could make out one familiar  
object. "Magiks' soulsword!" she exclaimed.  
  
   "What?" Feron broke out of his trance and stared at her. "You recognise  
the sword?"  
  
   "Yes, it belonged to one of the New Mutants. Illyana Rasputin. I heard  
that something happened to her after I had left but I'm not sure what. But  
that's definitely her sword, we have to go and find out what's going on!"  
  
   "Now hold on a minute..."  
  
   "No! Magik and I may not have been friends but she was one of my team-  
mates and if somethings happened to her then I want to know what. Karma  
agrees, don't you Karma?"  
  
   Xian looked surprised at being asked. "Oui, of course. I suppose."  
  
   "Fine then, let's go."  
  
   "Are you sure we shouldn't call Excalibur or something?" asked Feron,  
uncertainty colouring his features.  
  
   "I thought we were a super-hero team?"  
  
   "Well..."  
  
   "So let's go be superheroes then."  
  
       ------------- continued in Angels and Demons #4 -------------


	17. Angels and Demons #4

Angels and Demons #4  
by anon  
Edited by Marysia  
  
Legal Bit - Excalibur belong to Marvel.  John's DC's.  Oh, Margali and  
the other one are Marvel's too.  I'm making no money out of this (dammit)  
and I'm not causing Marvel or DC to lose cash.  Don't sue me.  Don't sue  
X-writers either, because *no-one* makes any cash out of this.  We're  
non-profit (read : pissed off that we can't make any money) more fools us.  
Oh, and no, just because we don't make any cash out of this, doesn't mean  
that anyone else can get any bright ideas about doing so.  The management  
reserve the right to refuse admission.  
  
Mature readers bit - Don't read this if you might be offended by anything  
you'd expect to have a mature readers label on it.  I don't write cute  
fluffy suitable-for-kids stuff, except at gunpoint.  There's likely to  
be swearing at the least.  
  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------  
An interlude to Hells Ditch, and a Crossover with Excalibur.  
Call to Darkness part 2 - "A Gathering Amongst Thorns"  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Blurs.  Confused blurs.  Multi-coloured, poly-tonal, a welter of scents, a  
plethora of textures, and a glut of tastes.  
  
Words came out of the blur at him :  
  
"Nimue!  Vivien!  Will you not yet recant, though ages pass in my slumber?"  
  
Then they were gone.  
  
It was impossible to describe the synchronicity road. In meaningful terms  
at any rate.  Those that travelled it had the words, some of them, but most  
people didn't have the concepts.  It was one of those things you just  
understood, or didn't.  It wasn't a hard concept, once you understood it.   
People had different ways of explaining it, but all were valid.  To John,  
it was just a matter of a vast, invisible public transport system.  That's  
why he had to start a journey before he could get onto it.  Occasionally,  
he envied the bloke he'd met (what was his name?  Woodman?  Something like  
that, anyway.) who explained it with his "correspondence theory" that all  
places were one place, and that the intervening space was just a convenient  
illusion, and all that one needed was the strength of will to alter one's  
place within the illusion.  
  
Still, public transport worked for John.  Once he was on it, he could be  
anywhere he needed to be (that was the catch - he had to have a need to be,  
or be needed at his destination) in a matter of a few minutes.  Made  
travelling by BR much easier.  He didn't do it very often, for several  
reasons - lately he'd found that there wasn't anywhere he needed to be that  
badly, and also, it made him feel sick.  He'd tried Quells, but they hadn't  
really worked.  
  
He arrived in Wales about 5 minutes after he'd left Paddington, headed for  
the Gents, and spent ten minutes losing a perfectly good breakfast down the  
khazi.  Then he grabbed his suitcase full of tricks (he had no idea what  
kind of shit he was getting himself into, so he'd brought a fair old amount  
of stuff, emptying cupboards onto the floor in his haste to find things,  
which had narked Cathy no end.  Still, it'd give her something to do 'til  
he got back.  Then he'd sort out this business with her "problem" and get  
the "wee Scots Lassie" out of his hair.  
  
Right, here he was in...where was he?  He'd stepped off a train, pulling  
into...he looked about the station. Llanidlos.  Wonderful.  Wales, land of  
sheep, and jaw-dislocating names.  
  
John left the station and stopped at a little shop just outside, got  
himself twenty Silk Cut and a pad of paper and some pens, then headed off  
to the North of the town. He found a bench just at the edge of town, sat  
down, lit a cigarette, and waited.  
  
He wasn't there long.  About five minutes later, just as he killed the fag,  
there was a roar of jet engines as that plane thing of Excalibur's landed  
in a nearby field.  He wandered over, as a ramp extended itself.  Pete  
appeared at the top of the ramp.  
  
"Alright John!  Climb aboard, we're just trying to work out what to do."  
  
John lugged his case up the ramp after him.  
  
"Afternoon."  
  
He nodded to the folks on the plane.  
  
"OK, so what're your plans then?"  He asked Amanda, since she claimed to  
know what was going on here.  Or at least, Pete had mentioned her name and  
said something about her mother, and a sword.  
  
"I don't know yet, but they don't include you, know it all."  
  
"Oh, fucking hell.  It's going to be like that, is it?  What is it, your  
time of the month, or something?"  
  
John was unaware of Pete restraining Kurt behind him.  
  
"You don't want my help, fine by me.  But I reckon since I'm going to do  
something about what's going on up here, like it or not, we might as well  
work together.  If you really want to get caught in anything I might do,  
fine, but I've no desire to be tripping over you every ten minutes.   
Besides, I need your help anyway."  
  
Amanda was totally off balance.  She hadn't the quickness of wit to match  
John's shots, and just as she was about to turn around and yell at him for  
being insulting, he asks for her help.  She managed an articulate :  
  
"Ummm"  
  
Kurt, who had by now figured out exactly what John was up to, being  
slightly brighter than Amanda, and therefore able to see how neatly John  
had averted an argument over whether or not he was even going to help them,  
and also willing to admit that from Pete's description of John, he'd rather  
rely on John for a plan right now (as much as he loved Amanda, he had to  
admit there were times when she wasn't suited to the task at hand - and as  
a team leader, he knew it now was one of those times, Amanda was too caught  
up in her own feelings right now to be effective) managed to keep an even  
temper, and spoke up.  
  
"The first thing we need to do is get an accurate fix on Margali's  
location.  This close, Amanda can't pinpoint her.  Have you any  
suggestions, John?"  
  
John closed his eyes, mostly so no-one would see him rolling them.  Amanda  
was going to be about as much use as a tube station during a strike, then.  
  
"Have you a map of the area?"  
  
"Yeah, it's up front somewhere.  I'll go grab it."  
  
Pete headed for the cockpit, and John turned to Amanda.  
  
"How good are you at pinpointing ley-lines?"  
  
"Ley-lines?"  
  
"You know, mystic lines of force, run all over the planet?"  
  
"Oh, you mean dragon lines?"  
  
"Same thing."  
  
"Are they?  I can find Dragon lines, yes.  Why?"  
  
Pete returned with the map, and handed it to John, who unfolded it, and  
handed it, and a pen to Amanda.  
  
"Sketch all the ones in the area on this, will you?"  
  
"What'll you be doing?"  
  
"I'm going outside for a smoke.  Back in a minute."  
  
Pete joined John outside.  
  
"So, what're you doing back with this lot then?"  
  
"Well, I got gift-wrapped, and then things sorted themselves out, and there  
didn't seem to be much point in leaving."  
  
"Gift wrapped?"  
  
"Long story.  Listen, cheers for coming up here, I'm not happy with the  
idea of trusting Sefton to get us out of this."  
  
"Nah, no trouble.  Let's just say you owe me one, OK?" John grinned.  
  
"What, again?"  
  
"Anyway, what *is* supposed to be going on here, anyway? You didn't tell me  
a lot on the phone."  
  
"I don't know, to be truthful - Sefton's mother is doing something naughty,  
apparently, and apparently it's Amanda's fault.  Kitty conned her into  
spilling the beans, and here we all are."  
  
"Well, bloody wonderful.  She's doing some kind of summoning, I can feel  
that much from here, and it's not going to be a lot of fun if she manages  
it."  
  
Kurt stuck his head out the door.  
  
"Amanda's finished.  When you two are done, come inside, and we'll plan  
something."  
  
"Or try to, at any rate." John added, as Kurt disappeared inside the plane.  
  
"Here, leave it out, Kurt's not a bad bloke.  Amanda's not to bright, but  
he's alright."  
  
"So what about this Kitty, then.  You've not mentioned her, I see."  
  
"Kitty?  Kitty's....she's....."  
  
"You dirty old bastard!"  
  
"Leave it alone John, she's old enough!"  
  
"Only just." John smirked a bit, but he wasn't really serious.  
  
They went inside, and John went to look at the map.  
  
"Thought so.  She'll be there."  
  
He brought his finger down on the point where five or six of the lines  
Amanda had drawn converged.  
  
"How can you be so sure?"  
  
"Because I'm working from the basis that who ever's pissing about around  
here is reasonably intelligent.  And the amount of power she's playing with  
isn't the kind of thing that your average nutter has.  The nexus there will  
amplify her power.  Stonehenge was probably occupied by some bunch of  
hippies, or she'd have used that."  
  
"Or maybe she didn't want to draw that much attention to herself." Kitty  
put in.  
  
"Yeah, something like that.  Anyway, now we know where she is, we've got to  
sort out what to do about her."  
  
\-----  
Interlude #1 : Exodus.  
  
The sun was resting on the horizon as Exodus flew over Wales, leaving the  
rolling blues of the Irish Sea behind him, and heading toward the source of  
this build up of power.  He could feel the pull extending out from Earth,  
across dimensions, seeking, seeking.  It pulled at him briefly, to his  
surprise.  Almost reflexively, he forced the pull away.  
  
But something changed inside him.  
  
This land had been his once, he would permit no man to despoil it!  Had he  
not counselled Gywdion in the raising of Llew Llaw Gyffes?  
  
No, that wasn't right.  He was Paris Bennet.  No, he was....who was he?  
  
Then something else reached out, the land beneath him reached out a gentle  
arm to soothe his troubled brow. The magic and splendour of nature flowed  
through him. Then it was gone, leaving no memory of that brief incident  
behind it.  Untroubled, as if nothing had occurred he flew on, unaware of  
the being that had been awakened inside him, the being that provided him  
with his power, the being that had been corrupted and enchained inside him  
so long ago.  
  
\-----  
  
"Right, so if you lot can keep her distracted, I can sod off out the way  
somewhere, and try and do something about what she's up to?"  
  
"I don't like this.  How do we know she won't sense you?" Amanda hadn't  
quite given up trying to fault John yet.  
  
"Christ, how dim can one woman be?"  John muttered to himself.  Then,  
speaking louder, he replied.  
  
"Because she's concentrating on this spell of hers, and also because of  
this."  
  
He drew out the stone with the bootlace through it.  Since Doom hadn't even  
tried to break John's trick (so how *had* he found them, then?) it was  
still working.  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"It'll hide me.  Unless she's looking at me with her own eyes, she won't be  
able to see me.  Trust me."  
  
"I get really nervous when people say that."  Kurt muttered to no-one in  
particular.  
  
\-----  
  
The sun was starting to set, the sky a haze of reds and oranges as they  
came in to land.  
  
Excalibur left the plane first, then John, having given them a couple of  
minutes head start, lugged his suitcase over to a nearby rock.  He hefted  
it onto the rock, then puffing a bit, hauled himself up.  He opened the  
case, and grabbed a piece of chalk, and got to work.  
  
Magic was a funny thing.  It was different for everyone.  Amanda, for  
example, needed her "Winding Way" with its levels and its ranking and its  
strange handshakes.  And because she believed that the flashy stuff was the  
real magic, it was, for her.  John saw it as little more than another  
number added to the spandex hordes.  But John tried to keep an open mind.   
He read, he researched, he learned.  Some stuff, he dismissed.  He couldn't  
see how wiggling fingers led to a bolt of green light, a noise like an  
electric tin opener, and some poor sod lying on the floor with three broken  
ribs.  But he could see how willpower could affect the world.  He could  
understand the power of symbols.  He knew the rules that governed Angels  
and Demons.  He knew that chance and luck were fictions that people  
invented to prevent themselves from seeing the screamingly obvious.  
  
Time to get to work.  
  
A rock, earth, protection against that which is not of it.  Salt, taken  
from within the earth, deeper still, reinforcing that protection.  
  
He got an old ceramic dish out of the case, and an old newspaper, which he  
shredded into the bowl.  The he got his lighter out, and lit the paper.   
Fire, the destroyer, smoke the confuser.  
  
John did what Amanda's mother was undoubtedly doing, and drew up power from  
the earth around him, increasing the strength of his spell.  He hoped that  
the charm (which was becoming rather warm against his skin) would keep her  
from noticing a little power being siphoned off.  
  
Shit!  No focus!  No photo, no link to whatshername, no way to target the  
spell to counter the other.  
  
\------  
  
Excalibur approached.  Margali was seated, cross-legged, with a sword they  
all recognised resting in her lap.  In front of her was a circle which was  
just beginning to glow with light.  A dome of witch light surrounded her,  
purple light crackled around it like lightning on a Faraday cage.  
  
\-----  
  
Fuck!  Fuck, shit and bugger!  John concentrated on the power he could feel  
flooding the area, tugging oh so slightly at him, pulling him elsewhere  
(hadn't he got rid of all the demon blood?) and prayed to someone that   
his own trick might do something to stop it.  Then the fire went out, and  
John was left to fall back to plan B. If he could think of one.  
  
\----  
  
The glow of the circle was brighter now, and the sword seemed to be  
lighting up in response to it.  A shaft of brilliant white light rose up  
into the heavens from the centre of the circle.  Then it winked out.   
Excalibur breathed out in relief.  John had done it.  Then the light was  
back, as bright, no, brighter than before.  They steeled themselves to do  
what heroes did best - hurt something.  A wind sprung out of nowhere,  
whipping their hair, howling in their ears and chilling them at a level  
beyond bone deep.  
  
The top of the sun hadn't quite gone below the horizon yet.  The area was  
still bathed in the reds of sunset.  A ray of sunlight shot across the  
rolling hills, bathing Excalibur in it's glow.  
  
"Amanda!  See if you can find out what Constantine is doing!  Quickly!"   
Nightcrawler barked the order, cutting through the wind.  
  
With a flash of light, his lover, daughter to the source of all this  
trouble, was gone.  
  
\----  
  
He'd managed to do something.  Would it be enough?  He couldn't risk it.   
It was too late to stop the summoning.  Sweat rolled off his forehead, and  
dripped off the end of his nose.  He lit a cigarette.  There was a sound  
like a thousand harps, and a flash of light, and Amanda appeared.  
  
"What now?"  John called across the wind which was beginning to rise here,  
too.  
  
"Kurt sent me back to check on what how you were doing."  
  
"Badly.  I forgot to get a focus, so my counter just rang across all the  
dimensions in the book, and only chipped a bit off her power.  Yeah, yeah,  
fine I'm not perfect, I never claimed to be."  
  
"I wasn't going to say anything."  
  
"Whatever.  Listen, have you any idea what she's summoning?  I might be  
able to do something if I knew that."  
  
"I'm not sure.  I can show you the circle, if that'd help."  
  
"That'd be better than nothing."  
  
The column of light was widening.  
  
Amanda quickly created a glowing replica of the circle with the strange  
script inlaid out of thin air.  
  
John scratched his head in puzzlement.  
  
"That's not a demon or an angel she's summoning.  That binding's too  
complex.  Whatever she's summoning has free will."  
  
"Don't they?"  
  
"Most of them don't.  That's why they are what they are.  Anyway, perhaps I  
can do something about this binding.  If I can get rid of it, we might be  
able to reason with whatever she's summoning.  Hold on sec while I copy  
this circle down."  
  
John got his copy, and got to work, with a focus this time.  Amanda went  
back to rejoin Excalibur.  
  
\-----  
  
Amanda rejoined her team-mates just as things went from worse into "oh  
fucking hell" territory.  The light expanded to fill the circle.  The sun  
set, it's last finger having moved below the horizon, leaving Excalibur  
in darkness.  The aura around Margali vanished.  The column of light  
coalesced into a single disk at the base of the circle, which rose through  
the air, and vanished, leaving a scaly red fiend, with curling horns  
emerging from her brow, and a tail that angrily lashed the air behind her,  
standing facing those heroes as would stand against her.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This issue should have been followed by the concluding story in Excalibur #100, which was never completed.  
> Angels and Demons #5 would have had more of the Hell's Ditch storyline but the X-Writers alas disintegrated.


End file.
